


231 Days

by KrypticReaux



Series: Unbreakable [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angsty angsty angst, BDSM, Badass MC saves her sweetheart, Comments welcome!, Dark, F/M, Had to get this out of my system, He deserves to be happy, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I love my readers!, I'm Going to Hell, I'm sorry Saeran...I love you and I promise I'll make this up to you!, Implied Character Death, M/M, MC is my OC, Multi, Original MC, Please Don't Hate Me, Profanity, Rescue, Sexual Abuse, Smut, Torture, Trauma, Um..STRONGLY implied character death, Yoosung 3rd bad ending, Yoosung bad ending, Yoosung's route, bad things happen to my baby, psychological abuse, seriously...it's almost all angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 12:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 72,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12606944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrypticReaux/pseuds/KrypticReaux
Summary: A fanfic based upon Yoosung's 3rd bad end.Over seven months ago, 707 and Yoosung infiltrated Mint Eye headquarters to neutralize the imminent danger to the RFA--but only Seven came back. Yoosung, determined to ensure the success of the mission, and the safety of the girl he loves, stayed behind, and is captured by Unknown. Both of them have now disappeared without a trace, and it's looking more and more likely that hope is lost.Eleanora, however, refuses to give up on the boy she loves more than anything else in the world, and nothing will stop her from finding him--and bringing him home.Meanwhile, Unknown has taken Yoosung to a remote location, and uses him as a pet and plaything.  Damaged by a lifetime of hurt, abuse, abandonment and rejection, Unknown finds that he can find comfort by unleashing his own pain onto his innocent captive--through acts of unspeakable physical and mental torment.EXPANDED EDITION:  This work combines two of my previous works ('231 Days', first published in July 2017, and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', first published in October 2017).  The added chapters are noted in their respective chapter summaries.





	1. No Power in the Universe...

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [KrypticReaux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrypticReaux/pseuds/KrypticReaux). Log in to view. 



> This is the story of what happened after Yoosung’s 3rd bad end...minus the bratty behavior by MC that leads to that ending.
> 
> This is the first part of a series. I'm creating a story arc that will, at its heart, be about sacrifice, redemption, and an unbreakable love that's powerful enough to overcome any barrier that gets in its way.
> 
> Part 1 is the "darkness before dawn". And it is, indeed, very dark.
> 
> Please heed the warnings. This is not for the squeamish.
> 
> I promise that I'm not as twisted as my writing might suggest! Believe me, this was not easy to write-I lost sleep on several occasions while writing this story. In order to fully define the themes of this story that I listed above, there had to first be some terrible darkness from which to emerge.
> 
> I am a fiercely protective person; someone who needs to be needed and needs to protect the ones I love...like my OC (Eleanora). When I first played the game, I got Yoosung's route, and I fell for him-really, really hard. I've gotten all of his endings, and there's not one where he doesn't get hurt. My poor, sweet baby. The third bad end, however...I couldn't handle it. But, it inspired me to write a story where my OC refuses to sit back and just accept that he's gone. She's stubborn, determined, and maybe even a bit foolish and reckless, but dammit, she's going to get out there and save her love, or die trying-even if she has to go it alone.
> 
> This is that story. 
> 
> One other thing. This sweet boy may be portrayed in the game and seen by some as weak, whiny, needy, annoying, a crybaby, etc. (especially in V's route *see note below)... but I would like to argue that he’s TOUGH…perhaps the toughest principal character in the game (with the possible exception of the legendary badass babe, Jaehee Kang...love her so much!). Think about it…despite being the “baby” of the group, and having a shit-ton of emotional baggage to deal with, he is constantly trying his best to do better and become a better person once MC shows up in his life. He put himself on the line for her—basically threw his life away, because he loves her. Through everything...all the unspeakable things that happen to him, he never breaks—he never gives up. This is one of the main messages I want to convey in this story. This boy has strength and resilience that is seriously underrated.
> 
> *A note on V's route: I had an interesting discussion with a friend about how Yoosung behaves in V's route, and my argument was that Yoosung is still just a baby in this route (okay, maybe I'm kinda old...and maybe my "friend" is actually my daughter...okay, I admitted it. T-T). Anyway, he's just a few months out from a devastating loss that he can't even begin to come to terms with, because he has no answers, no absolutions, and no closure. She was a crucial part of his life; a huge influence, and someone he loved dearly...and suddenly, she's just...gone. How on earth is he supposed to cope with that? How can he move forward? None of the other RFA members had the kind of connection with Rika that Yoosung did, and was in the position that he was in. Yes, V was close to Rika, but he KNEW THE TRUTH. Apparently, her parents knew something, too. This left Yoosung very much alone, with nobody else who could relate to his very real pain. Meanwhile, Rika's hopped the express train to Crazy Town to create her little paradise, not even waiting just one more freaking day so that she could at least go to her cousin's graduation. And V...despite having some good qualities, I find it unforgivable that he was the one closest to Rika, the one who KNEW how unstable she was, and the one in the best possible position to intervene--and he didn't. As noble as his intentions were, he was still very hubristic to think that he could have handled Rika on his own.
> 
> I chose not to involve either V or Rika in this story, simply because I wanted to keep my focus on Yoosung and Eleanora. I may as well mention upfront that I deviate slightly from canon later in this series by eliminating Yoosung's parents from the story (in my HC, they died when he was young). Again, this was to simplify the focus of the story. As I develop my story arc, I may end up bringing V and/or Rika in, at which point I might need to go back and make some adjustments.
> 
> Anyway...I hope you enjoy the beautiful mess I've made here! I've enjoyed this little escape from reality in writing this story. Yes, I'm probably a bit old for this (for anyone curious, I'm 39), and it might seem strange that someone my age is even into this game, but...oh well! I am autistic and my interests have always tended to be more in line with someone much younger than I am. 
> 
> If you have any encouragement, ideas, suggestions, criticisms (be nice, please! I'm actually scared to put this out here as it is!)...or if you just want to say hi, PLEASE leave a comment!
> 
> I love my readers, and I want to know what you think!

**Chapter 1: No Power in the Universe...**

Day 229—December 23rd

* * *

 

3:27pm

 

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and a cold, light rain was falling outside, softly kissing her window before running down the glass in erratic streams.  The sky was shrouded in an impassive gray mist. 

Eleanora reclined on her bed, clutching her pillow to her chest.  She could feel her own heartbeat, amplified by the fluff that filled the pillow; though, exactly how that heart managed to find the willpower to continue beating was a mystery to her. 

It had been seven months since she last knew he was safe.  Seven months, two weeks, three days, two hours and nineteen minutes, to be precise.  She always knew the exact count, because she still had the record of the last chat room where she had talked to him.  She replayed the chat, along with all of the others she had saved, over and over, just to see his words and hear his sweet voice in her mind. 

It was one of the few connections to him she had left, one of the few gossamer ribbons of hope that held her sanity together. 

The agonizing, but all too familiar thought process—a treacherous, sinister mire that attempted to engulf her mind on a daily basis:

_Where was he?_

_Was he okay?_

_Was he still...ali...?_

Eleanora interrupted her own thought angrily. 

_No. We are not going there…not today._

She forcefully shifted her errant mind away from the thoughts that she would never be ready to cope with.

**_He is still alive._ **

_He's alive_ , she told herself fiercely anytime that unwelcome question dared to intrude upon her thoughts, like a noxious weed. 

She still felt him, every second of every hour.  Surely, she wouldn’t feel his life force embracing her aura, if he was not still present in this plane of existence. 

_Would he ever come back to her?_

And the most pressing question burning in her exhausted mind…

 _WHY?_  

Why did this have to happen?  To him?  

 _To her Yoosung_. 

Eleanora had experienced the greatest miracle of her life seven months ago in finding her heart’s most precious treasure—particularly considering the rather strange and unorthodox way they were brought together in the first place. 

One random, ordinary day last spring, she had discovered a weird app on her phone that she didn’t recall installing.  It was a messenger app she had never heard of before, through which she was contacted by a complete stranger who went by the title of “Unknown”--who had then led her to an apartment in the city, supposedly to help him locate the owner of a phone that he had found. 

She probably never should have gone to some weird place at the behest of a weird person she had never met--but there was some odd curiosity (or was it more like a  _compulsion_?)  that made her do it, overriding her better judgement.  

After she arrived at the apartment, she was connected to a chat room within the app, where she had then encountered—and subsequently joined—an organization known as RFA…Rika’s Fundraising Association.  This is how she met the people who would quickly become her most cherished friends:  Jaehee Kang, Jumin Han, Zen, Seven …and Yoosung Kim. 

Sweet, sweet Yoosung.  

Her prince...her baby-angel...her shooting star...her Yoosung.  She was drawn to him from that very first awkward encounter in the RFA chatroom.  He had seemed a little scared of her at first, but he had this sweet innocence about him that grabbed at her heart and melted it into a puddle of giddiness. 

The youngest in the group at only 21 years old, Yoosung was a college student with sunny blonde hair, and magical amethyst eyes that managed to be both complex and mysterious---and at the same time, completely transparent, innocent and pure.  He was the embodiment of warm sunshine and gentle rain—the kind of rain that gently kisses your face and hair, smells of rainbows and freshly-cut grass, and makes you want to take off your shoes and dance in it.  So full of life, light, and optimism; he possessed a heart of gold. 

Yoosung was everything she loved about life, and everything she wanted her life to be.

Initially, for him, the biggest attraction to Eleanora was his perception that she was similar to his late cousin, Rika, who had passed away two years earlier.  Her sudden death, by apparent suicide, had been a tremendously devastating blow to Yoosung, who was just about to graduate from high school at the time.  He lost all direction when Rika left the world, and he wanted more than anything to think of Eleanora as a replacement to fill the awful, aching void in his heart.  

However, Eleanora had lovingly and patiently guided him to the realization that she was not Rika, nor a replacement for her, and he fell in love with her in her own right.   In doing this, she had managed to break through the deep sadness that he felt at the loss of his beloved cousin, and she had given him a powerful new reason to be a better person every day.  She made him whole; she made him understand what it was to be loved, and to want to live for someone else. 

_And oh, how he loved her for it._

Each of them were everything the other needed; so well did their hearts fit together, filling in the gaps in each other.  As cliché as it sounds, there's not a better way to put it:  they truly were _made for each other--_ souls woven together with the threads of fate. 

Where most couples take weeks, months, or even years to accomplish all of this, Eleanora and Yoosung only needed 10 days—and a messaging app. 

Unfortunately, fate’s grandest tapestries are rarely ever woven together in ways that are simple and straightforward.  Yoosung and Eleanora’s path to happiness together would soon prove to be far from easy. 

Ironically, the stranger who orchestrated their meeting would also be the one that stood between them—and threaten to destroy them and everything they held dear.  This mysterious individual, who called himself simply “Unknown”, had used Eleanora to infiltrate the RFA, against which he had a madman’s vendetta.

Nobody knew exactly _why_ he longed to see the RFA’s destruction.

Once she had unwittingly allowed him the level of access the malevolent hacker had long been trying to obtain, he was able to set into motion a terrifying plot which, if he had his way, would ultimately lead to her end, along with the end of the RFA itself.  The members of the RFA were left scrambling to eliminate the danger.  Yoosung swore to do anything he had to do—even if it meant forfeiting his own life—to protect the girl he loved more dearly than life itself.

So, on that fateful spring day seven months ago, Seven—a highly-skilled special agent with mind-boggling abilities in hacking and manipulating technology to his will—announced that he had discovered the base of operations for the organization from which Unknown was acting.  He had planned to go to the location himself to infiltrate and neutralize the danger. 

However, Yoosung had _insisted_ upon going with him, and nobody could talk him out of it.  Eleanora was in the most immediate danger, and Yoosung was absolutely adamant about personally protecting her at all costs.

So, the two of them headed to the remote, mountainous region where the organization's headquarters was located. 

Despite Seven’s skill and effort and Yoosung's help, things went wrong.  When they had been discovered and confronted by Unknown, Yoosung had created a distraction by tackling him while Seven got away with the crucial information needed to take down the threats against the RFA, as well as the detonation device that would have set off the bomb planted in the apartment where Eleanora was trapped. 

Together, they had saved her—and everyone else in the RFA--from danger.  In the analysis of the information collected, it’s likely that many, many more lives had potentially been at stake, and were now safe because of what Yoosung and Seven accomplished that day. 

But, this victory came with a terrible price...an unacceptable price...paid by Yoosung, who was unable to get away and was captured by Unknown.

An immediate and sizable search and rescue effort was made—one of the biggest in the country’s history.  Jumin Han, corporate heir and chairman of the board of directors at his father’s company, used his considerable fortune and clout to hire some of the world’s most advanced and renowned search and rescue organizations to comb every inch of the region. 

A temporary headquarters for the search effort was opened just outside of the city, where teams would meet, share information, strategize and plan search parties.  There was also a phone bank where operators would make calls to citizens and businesses asking for any reports or tips. 

Eleanora had stayed there for the first week after Yoosung’s disappearance, even “sleeping” there overnight (of course, she didn’t _really_ sleep; she only laid down on a cot in a back room at the insistence of her RFA friends). 

She volunteered wherever she could, sometimes sitting in at strategy meetings, and sometimes working in the phone bank.  Sometimes, she would accompany search teams in the field.  Other times, she would work in the kitchen at headquarters, making meals for the workers and volunteers.  She devoted every waking moment of her life to helping the search effort, doing anything she could.

Doing  _something_ —no matter how small or seemingly insignificant—that could possibly help bring her sweetheart home to her, was better far better than just sitting and letting her wandering mind slowly erode her grasp on sanity. 

The search consumed her.  She completely immersed herself in the efforts, while every media outlet in the country ran nearly constant announcements and notices asking the public to be on the lookout for the blond-haired, violet-eyed college boy.  No matter how hard she tried, she could never stop the bittersweet sting that seized at her heart each time she saw his beautiful, smiling face on a poster or TV screen.

Within the first couple of days of the search, however, it became increasingly clear that Yoosung had been relocated from the place where he had disappeared (which was completely deserted by the time the first crews arrived), with no evidence left behind that could provide a clue as to where he had been taken. 

He was simply  _gone_ , without a trace, and with no leads to direct the search.  So, the search area opened up to the entire eastern region of the country. 

They were now searching for a needle in a very large haystack—a vast, mountainous, sparsely-populated haystack.  Even with the immense resources—money and manpower—devoted to the search effort, the odds were not looking to be favorable. 

There had been only a single contact since Yoosung’s disappearance—one harrowing, gut-wrenching phone call—on a hot summer day in August, about three months after he was taken.  Unknown had called Eleanora’s phone from a highly secured, untraceable device, apparently wanting to toy with them for his own entertainment. 

The call nearly broke her. 

However, instead of letting it take her down, she learned to turn her anguish into anger, which ultimately steeled her resolve and gave her the strength to push forward.

Since then……nothing. 

Nothing, but soul-crushing, hope-strangling silence.  Nobody knew where Yoosung was, or what had happened to him. 

For Eleanora, life had come crashing down around her, and she sank slowly into a deep darkness.  Hope yet lived, but was barely a candle's tiny flicker.

Meanwhile, the RFA was thrown into disarray.   All events were cancelled indefinitely.  Although the official operations of the organization had temporarily ceased, the remaining members managed to stay in close contact through the strength of their friendships with one another.  In this crisis, they all came together to support each other—and especially Eleanora.

Despite the unwavering support and constant reassurances of her dear friends, Eleanora blamed herself.  Yoosung had done this  _for her_.  He was dead-set on going, if it gave him a chance to protect the woman he loved so much. 

But, why… _oh, why_ … did she let him go? 

Why didn’t she try to stop him? 

Surely she could have—he would have listened to her…right? 

Of course, the other RFA members rightly pointed out that there was no way she—or anyone else—could have stopped him. The boy was  _determined_ , and more than a little stubborn; nobody—not even Eleanora—would have been able to talk him out of doing what he had set his mind to do.

Even though she knew all of this, it still never stopped her from ruminating on the notion that she could have said or done _something_ to convince him to stay behind in safety….and that she should have done just that. 

Eleanora believed that Yoosung would be with her right now, safe and sound, if she hadn’t failed to stop him from putting himself in harm’s way.

With the danger to herself and the other RFA members eliminated, she was free to come and go from the apartment as she pleased. A short time later, she was invited by the RFA to stay at the apartment indefinitely, an invitation she readily accepted. 

She was dedicated to the members and the mission of the RFA, and had no intention of leaving her place in the organization, even if she was currently unable to perform her duty of coordinating events and maintaining the guest lists.

Staying on at the apartment just made sense, for a multitude of reasons.  However, there was one very important reason she chose to stay.  The apartment was where she was when she met Yoosung, albeit through the messaging app.  It was also the former home of Yoosung’s cousin, Rika, and there were many pictures of him around the place.  While it hurt her heart to see his face, she felt closer to him in that apartment than anywhere else. 

Any connection to him, however small it might be, she clung to with all of her might.  These threads of hope were what kept her going—that still, small voice in her heart that whispered  _maybe today will be the day we bring him home_ \---this is what gave her the courage to wake up and face each new day.

The days slowly melted into weeks and months, spring flowing into summer, summer crashing into fall.  Now, with winter’s icy fingers gripping the sleeping land—hope was growing more and more tenuous.  The weather was harsh, and the manpower available for searching was limited.  Some of the organizations participating in the search had begun withdrawing from the effort late in the summer, believing that the search had become a lost cause and an unnecessary risk on their people and resources—which were needed for other cases elsewhere. 

Indeed, Eleanora was informed just last week that search and rescue efforts were being scaled back once again, and would likely cease entirely before long, with the way things were going.  The search headquarters had slowly become more and more deserted, until it was finally closed down completely last month. 

Despite the considerable monetary and staffing resources available to Jumin through his position at his father’s corporation, which he had provided from day one of this tragedy, there had been absolutely no leads in the case.  After seven months, it was becoming more and more difficult for him to stand in front of the directors of his company and convincingly justify the continued allocation of money and resources to what was looking like a hopeless case. 

Shortly before the search headquarters closed, Jumin had asked Eleanora to meet him at his office to break the news to her.

“I’m sorry, Eleanora.  Truly, I am.  But, you have to realize that it’s been seven months.  The entire country has been searched with a fine-toothed comb.  Millions of dollars have gone into public announcements on every form of media.  More millions have gone into public and private search efforts.  Every stone has been overturned, every tree, shrub, and blade of grass searched.  Everything that can possibly be done, has been done.  There has to come a point where we begin to accept…the reality…” Jumin’s words became uncharacteristically hesitant as he stops to sigh, closing his eyes, his forehead creased as if he were in pain, “…that he’s gone.” 

As they stood facing each other in front of Jumin's formidably large desk, Jumin reached out to place a hand on Eleanora’s arm, in a gesture of comfort that is rare for him, but she would have none of it.  She shoved him away, her anger quickly building until it was seething through every pore of her body. 

In that instant, Eleanora felt something snap deep inside the very core of her being, and, like mighty volcano Krakatoa, she exploded—releasing all of the pent-up frustration, anger and despair.

“HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT TO ME, JUMIN HAN?  HOW  _DARE_  YOU?”

Her voice rose, shrill and loud, almost as a primal scream, channeling all of the anguish that had been gathering in the abyss of her heart and soul.  She was no longer in control of what she did or said as the dam broke and all of her emotions came flooding out.

Before she could process what she was doing, her hand reared back, swung forward, and delivered a resounding slap to Jumin’s face— _SMACK!—_ that echoed sharply throughout his cold, sterile, minimally decorated office.  Immediately, a hot, angry, red mark spread across his cheek that matched Eleanora’s hot, angry, and utterly broken heart.  

Without even the slightest flinch, Jumin stood stoically against her onslaught, calmly and patiently listening as Eleanora poured out her anguish. 

“How, Jumin… _how_  can you…… _give up_  on him, just like _that_?” She sputtered as she snapped her fingers for emphasis. “Like his life doesn’t matter.  Like he’s just some…. some  _nobody_ … to be tossed away like a used tissue.  Oh, right….he’s just a kid.  Is that it?  Just a college student with lousy grades who goofs around and plays video games instead of making deals and changing the world like you do.  He’s not rich and powerful like you and your corporate ilk; he has no connections, no stock portfolio, no assets, so he’s…expendable.  That’s it, isn’t it?  The bottom line--the almighty dollar. Cha-ching!  It’s all about MONEY, and Yoosung just isn’t worth the investment.  Is that it?”  Eleanora's words came in rapid, sharp shrieks.

After months of worry and heartbreak, Eleanora had finally come unhinged.

Jumin continued to stand silently in front of her, allowing her to release her feelings.  He wisely understood that she needed to do this…to vent her frustration, her anger, and her anguish, especially after staying so incredibly strong for such a long time. 

As he stood quietly, allowing her to direct all of her rage at him, his usually impassive, steely-gray eyes showed an unusual softness and…were they glistening?  Was he betraying a bit of very un-Jumin-like emotion? 

Looking into Jumin’s eyes, and suddenly sensing his pain and sadness, Eleanora instantly felt her white-hot anger begin to collapse into dark, cold despair. 

Her hand flew to her mouth, as her eyes widened in horror at the realization of what had just happened. 

_"Oh my God..."_

_"Oh, Jumin..."_ Her mortified whisper barely managed an escape from her trembling lips.

"I-I'm...sorry.  I'm so sorry."  Exhaling a sharp, ragged breath, she firmly pressed her hands to her face, allowing the stress-chilled skin of her palms to cool the prickly hot flush of her cheeks as she stuttered through a halting explanation. "I...I didn’t mean to...I know that...that you've done all that you...e-everything...and...and...I'm so grateful...b-but… _Oh God_ …we can't...we can't just… _abandon him_ …I _know_ that he’s still out there somewhere, possibly suffering… _scared_ …alone...away from anyone who loves him…”

This unbearable thought was her undoing.  She unraveled completely, her words choking painfully in her throat as the tears began to flow.  As her sobs consumed her, she leaned weakly against the slick, black marble surface of Jumin's desk.

“ _We...we have to...save him, Jumin_ …We just have to!” Her broken words were barely audible.  Her body shook intensely as she wept.  She had cried countless times in the months that Yoosung had been gone, but this was the first time she truly let go of her emotions and showed the full extent of her pain in front of someone else.

Jumin slowly stepped forward, tentatively putting his arms around her—an action that was at the same time incredibly awkward, yet completely natural.  

It was well known by everyone that Jumin was not the hugging type. But, underneath the perfectly precise and seemingly cold exterior, he was, in fact, in possession of a functioning human heart--especially for Eleanora, for whom he cared deeply...though he rarely let it show.  

This time, Eleanora did not try to push him away.  Her soul laid bare with loud, violent, heaving sobs, she banged frustrated, clenched fists onto Jumin’s chest like an inconsolable child, while also leaning into his embrace and burying her face into his crisp, exquisitely-tailored shirt until it had noticeable wet spots where her tears had soaked into the expensive material. 

Once Eleanora was able to calm down, Jumin agreed to see what he could do to keep the search and rescue operation going, but--ever the realist--he made no promises about things over which he had no control.  He did, however, promise to continue to help with the search effort as much as possible, using his own personal money and resources...which was at his own discretion and required no approval or accountability from officials at C&R International.

Eleanora thanked him and apologized again for her outburst, realizing that Jumin really did care about Yoosung and, like everyone else, was doing everything in his power bring him home.

“We _all_ care about him, Eleanora, and we all wish for his safe return.  And I do understand how much he means to you.  If there was anything I could do to change this situation for the better, I would do it.  Please know that,” Jumin told her as she left his office.  She gave him another quick hug—which he awkwardly accepted—before she walked away.

 

***

 

The physical, geographically-based search was not the only approach being utilized to hunt for Yoosung.  Seven—who was with Yoosung when he was taken, and felt a crushing burden of responsibility for Yoosung’s fate—was feverishly using his technological skill to continue to search for some kind of trace—a marker, cyber chatter, anything—that might provide a clue to Yoosung’s whereabouts. 

He was normally a gregarious, goofy jokester, but in the last several months he had become more aloof and withdrawn.  He rarely left his workstation, and Eleanora worried that he hardly ever slept or ate.  His body showed signs of extreme stress and exhaustion...his face was shockingly pale, which emphasized the dark circles under his eyes.  His frame had become so thin and gaunt that his clothes no longer fit properly.  

The endless days of nothing--no answers, no clues, no absolution, slowly eroded Eleanora's mind.  At this point, even locating a body--Eleanora shuddered at the thought, angry that it dared to show up unwanted and uninvited--would at least provide some closure. 

 _No._  

She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still alive.  

Surely… _surely_ she would know in her heart if he was not. Even in her darkest moments, she still felt his presence.  Seeing his photos all around her, and his profile picture in the RFA app—his status unchanged in such a long time—she would feel a barely perceptible warmth around her…his love embracing her like the most gentle of spring breezes.  

Over the past seven months, Eleanora has had little to do but think of Yoosung, and do whatever she can to help in the efforts to find him.  When she wasn’t volunteering with the search and rescue teams or at the phone bank, she would visit Seven, who was working almost non-stop to find leads from the furthest reaches of cyber-space. 

Of course, his own overwhelming feelings of guilt motivated him to prove to her that he was working hard—sometimes 60 to 80 hours a week, fueled by PhD Pepper and Honey Buddha Chips—to chase down any and every scrap of information possible. 

Perhaps, his chronic lack of sleep and subsequent clouded judgement allowed him to disclose a bit more sensitive information to Eleanora than he normally would have.  He most likely never considered just how intently she paid attention to his every word and action, instead figuring that it was mostly Greek to her. 

If that was the case, he couldn’t be more wrong.

Although Eleanora never had much of an interest in technology, she did take several classes in high school and college that gave her a basic understanding of how things work.  Her strongest point in this arena was her considerable intellect, along with the ability to rapidly assimilate and process information in her mind; she was an extremely fast learner.  That, along with a nearly-flawless photographic memory, allowed her to quickly build her hacking and coding skills as she watched Seven work his magic.   

With her laptop at home, she used the knowledge imparted to her by Seven and did her own research to build a considerable knowledge base.  Although her skills have some distance to go before they match Seven’s, her ability had become quite impressive in its own right. 

All of this, in a matter of a few months.

It’s amazing what a girl is capable of accomplishing when she is singularly obsessed with one goal.  When that goal is finding and saving the boy she loves more than anything else in the world, there is no power in the universe that can possibly stop her.

As her reverie on the events of the last seven months ended, she tossed her pillow unceremoniously onto her bed.  She stood up, did a quick stretch of her tense, tired muscles, then made her way over to her computer.  

She had work to do.

 

 

 

 

**********

 

Some of the songs that inspired this chapter (hold down CTRL as you click the link to open in a new window):

[When the Darkness Comes--Colbie Callait ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tV2je_mOUQg)

[ Where Are You Now--Thrillseekers ft. Stine Grove](https://youtu.be/P3jFGr2PrLE)

[Hymn for the Missing--Red](https://youtu.be/iWEsrQx6A2U)


	2. Seven Months, Two Weeks, and Two Days Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having been knocked out during the confrontation at Mint Eye headquarters the day before, Yoosung wakes up in a strange place, and it soon begins to dawn on him that he is in big trouble.

**Chapter 2: Seven Months, Two Weeks, and Two Days Ago**

Day 2—May 10th

* * *

 

9:48pm

 

The room was cold, damp, and nearly pitch-dark. 

The young, blonde boy, not quite three months past his 21st birthday, shivered and winced as consciousness slowly came to him.  His eyes strained and squinted to see into his murky surroundings.  He hurt, especially his head, but he felt sore pretty much everywhere. 

As his awareness increased, he realized that he was laying on a concrete floor, his hands fastened together in front of him with…what?  Some kind of leather cuffs?   As he tried to adjust his position, he found that his ankles were cuffed and secured in the same way. 

Yoosung reached his bound hands up to his head, trying to figure out why his head hurt so much.  His trembling fingers gingerly explored his face until they discovered a sticky, slick area just above his right eye.  Was it blood?  A small hiss escaped clenched teeth as he found the painful source—a small gash just above the eyebrow.  The area around it was swollen into a large, throbbing knot. 

Try as he might, he couldn’t remember how the wound got there.  Upon further exploration, he realized that the entire side of his face was covered in thick, partially-dried blood, with some of his hair matted into it at the edges of his face.   Where the blood had dried and cracked, his skin felt tight and itchy.

He struggled to sit up and look around, trying to determine where he was.  Despite the fear that dominated his awareness, he was also weak with hunger. Even more than that, he was extremely thirsty.  He tried to lick his parched, cracked lips, but his tongue was almost completely dry and slightly swollen. 

It was so dark in the room that he soon gave up trying to see anything, so he began to try moving around and feel what was around him.  With his limbs bound, this quickly proved to be an exercise in frustration. 

After a few minutes of scooting around as best he could, he soon realized that he was in some kind of jail cell or cage, surrounded on all sides by cold, metal bars.  The area included in the cell was very small, probably about six feet along each side. 

The effort expended in surveying his surroundings, along with the lack of nourishment and hydration, soon left him exhausted, so he leaned uncomfortably against the bars of his enclosure and attempted to rest.  He shivered from a combination of cold—and fear.  His lips quivered, and though he felt the urge to cry, no tears would come.

His mind still extremely confused, he vaguely began to wonder how he got here. 

 _Where_ was _here_ , anyway? 

Slowly, the muddled, swirling mélange of broken bits and pieces of thought began to congeal within his throbbing head, and he was able to recall some of the chain of events of the last 24 hours. 

He and Seven had discovered the headquarters of the organization that wanted to destroy the RFA. 

' _Green Eye'_ , was it called? 

That kind of made sense, because he did remember a guy who had bright, green eyes.  Plus, wasn’t the organization’s logo a green eye? 

Wait...no, that wasn’t right.  

 _Mint_ Eye?

Yes, that’s what it was called:  Mint Eye. 

Yoosung’s mind tried to follow the thought process, like a long, tangled string—but his brain still felt like it was floating in a dizzying haze. 

_What happened next?_

Oh yeah...someone had caught them—he had white hair…with pink tips…right?  And green eyes? 

Yes, he was the guy with the green eyes. 

After several tense words had been exchanged, Seven had seemed to become strangely affected by the guy.  It was almost as if they knew each other... _is it possible that there's some connection between the two?_

Yoosung’s head began to throb with an almost blinding intensity as he desperately tried to remember more details about the confrontation. 

They had just finished downloading information from the Mint Eye computers.  Important information.  

Then, the white-haired guy had some kind of device...something dangerous.  Yoosung knew he had to get it away from him, so he tackled him, holding him down and allowing Seven to get away with both the device and the stolen data.

 _What was the device?_  

Yoosung winced as his bruised and bleeding forehead furrowed painfully in thought. 

 _.._.it was a small box with a button. 

A detonator switch. 

…that would set off the bombs--at Mint Eye, and the apartment _._

_Rika’s apartment._

_Where Eleanora was..._

_..._

His thoughts trailed off as her name appeared in his mind, slicing through the foggy bewilderment with the pure, white light of the sun itself. 

_Eleanora..._

Yoosung’s heart jumped into his throat as the thought of her flooded his mind.  His sweet, precious Eleanora.  The first and only person he had ever loved with all of his heart…the one he would do _anything_ to protect.  

_Was Eleanora safe?_

Suddenly, the memories came rushing back. 

Yes. Yoosung remembered now.  He had grabbed the guy, and the distraction had allowed Seven to escape with both the detonation device and the information from the computers.

As long as Seven made it, Eleanora was safe and the mission was successful. 

Yoosung smiled to himself as he realized that he had accomplished what he set out to do—to protect his beloved Eleanora. 

 _If she was safe,_  then everything was fine. 

He would gladly endure anything to keep her alive and safe—he would even lay down his life for her. 

In fact, it would be his ultimate honor to die for the one he loved...his Eleanora. 

She had appeared, out of the blue, into his life one day as he was chatting with his friends on the RFA app.   _“An abrupt stranger,”_  as Jaehee had referred to her at the time.  Indeed, it  _was_  strange, and a bit scary at first, but he soon realized that Eleanora was nobody to fear. 

There was something about her—something that exuded kindness and love and light.  She had agreed to help these random people she had only just met, when it would have been so much easier—and probably safer—to run away and simply carry on with her life. 

She was so vibrant; he didn’t need to actually see her in person to feel the gentle, yet vivid beauty of her soul.  She pierced through his loneliness and made him feel more … _alive_ … than he had felt in years—since his cousin, Rika—the founder of Rika’s Fundraising Association—took her own life on the day before his high school graduation two years ago. 

On the day Rika died, she took a large part of Yoosung with her.  In his heart there was a terrible, aching, empty void.  Empty, that is, until Eleanora burst into his life with all of the love and color and majestic splendor of an ocean sunrise. 

She truly completed him, fulfilled him, and permeated his soul in a way he had never experienced—or even thought possible.  Being loved by her gave him new life...a life with meaning and purpose.  He had been counting the minutes until he got to see her in person—and then spend the rest of his life with her, their souls intertwined…forever.

A wave of sadness gripped him as he wondered if they would ever get that chance now. 

They had never had any other contact other than through phone calls and the RFA app.  Because of the bomb, and the secrecy surrounding Rika’s apartment (which he never fully understood and deeply resented), she had been unable to leave the apartment, and he was unable to go to her.  They were supposed to meet at the RFA party, which had been set for…today?  Yesterday? 

Yoosung had no idea what day it was.  The thought of missing the party, and the chance to see his lovely Eleanora for the first time, to hold her in his arms...to experience his first kiss with her…it was almost more than his heart could bear. 

A tear slid down his bloodied cheek.

A sudden, loud slam of what sounds like a heavy metal door startled him out of his thoughts and back into the present moment.  Footsteps behind him—slow and deliberate—caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end, and an involuntary chill ran down his spine. 

Yoosung shuddered.

“So…you’re finally awake.  Good.”  A voice—soft, but with a subtle, sinister edge that made Yoosung’s stomach turn. 

The flick of a switch, and a single, dim light bulb hanging by a wire from the high ceiling cast a sickly, dim glow about the room.  Before him, stood the green-eyed, white-haired guy he and Seven had encountered at the Mint Eye headquarters. 

Was this the “Unknown” person that led Eleanora to Rika’s apartment, and who threatened to kill her and destroy the RFA?  The green-eyed man sneered at the pitiful sight in the cage in front of him.

“Wow.  You look terrible.  You probably have quite the headache, too—that’s a nasty cut on your head.  That’s what you get for screwing up my plan and ruining everything.  Also, you will find that it is a very bad idea to try to attack me.  If you ever touch me again without my permission, you’ll get much worse than a little thump to the head.”

“W-who are you?”  Yoosung croaked, struggling to produce sound from his parched throat. 

“You know me by my handle, ‘Unknown’, and that is good enough for now,” sniffed the white-haired guy indifferently as he examined his well-manicured nails, each coated in glossy, black paint. 

So, that confirmed that he was the one who led Eleanora to Rika's apartment and the RFA.

“Why am I here?”  Yoosung was no less confused, even as he tried to gather information and piece it together in his throbbing head.

“Yeah...about that...See, here’s the funny thing…I never wanted  _you_  to begin with.  It’s that red-headed one that I have unsettled business with.  _He_ was the one I wanted.  But, you just _had to_ get in the way and mess everything up.  You weren’t even supposed to be there.”  His voice grew low, anger flashing in his brilliant green eyes.

Yoosung wondered what sort of “business” Unknown was referring to.  What possible connection could there be between him and Seven? 

 _W_ _hat was going on?_  

Yoosung felt the sudden urge to throw up, but remained frozen in fear, his wide eyes fixated on the intimidating figure standing on the other side of the thick, metal bars. 

He didn't seem much older than Yoosung, and he was only a few inches taller.  He had a slender build, accentuated by the close-fitting black jeans, red sleeveless shirt, and a black jacket that slid off of his right shoulder, exposing an intricate tattoo that Yoosung couldn't quite identify.  He thought he could make out the Mint Eye logo, which he had seen on the outside of the headquarters building, as well as in the email that Jaehee had received a few days ago.  

Unknown closed his almost luminescent emerald eyes and took a deep breath, after which his voice was calmer and quieter, and almost musical. “It’s okay, though… it’s okay.  You may have ruined my plans, but you're very lucky.  I like you.  You’re really cute, and now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’ve decided not to kill you—at least, not right away.  In fact, I think that, with just a little adjustment to my plan, you’ll actually make an excellent replacement,” Unknown said breezily, as a smile crept over his lips…a twisted, grimace-like smile that represented something far, far removed from happiness. 

His cryptic words and his sinister grin brought a feeling of utter terror over his captive audience.

Yoosung shivered, drawing his arms and legs into himself, almost curling into a ball on the cold, concrete floor. 

“So…w-what do you plan to…do with me?”  He asked timidly, his voice quivering.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but was grasping at any straws that gave him even the pretense of control on the situation.

“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you, pet?  Like an annoying child,” Unknown stepped close to the bars of the cage, strumming his fingers slowly across the bars...

_thunk...thunk...thunk..._

Unknown sighed contentedly as he surveyed the trembling boy huddled on the other side of the bars.  "To answer your question: _What do I plan to do with you?”_   Unknown pauses, then crouches down, leaning in close to the bars of Yoosung’s cage, his lips merely a few inches from Yoosung’s face. 

His lips curl back into a hideous, leering grin.

 _“Whatever I damn well please,”_  he whispers, his voice suddenly taking on a completely different, unearthly quality and tone--one that was dark, low, and ominous. 

Yoosung's breath caught in his throat as the words grazed his ear with Unknown’s hot, moist breath.  It smelled sickly sweet, like rancid candy. 

Returning to his feet, Unknown continues, “You are now my pet.  I will use you to fulfil any and all of my needs, at any time of my choosing.  You now exist only for me.”

Yoosung felt his blood turn icy in his veins, as terror gripped him like a giant, invisible, cold, sweaty fist.

“Please let me go…please…”  Yoosung was trying so hard to be brave, but the lump building in his throat made its presence known with an involuntary sob.

“Let you  _go?”_  Unknown was both incredulous and amused.  “Are you kidding me?  No way!” he chuckled at the cute, naïve little boy trembling fearfully in the cage before him. “I’ve been waiting for this forever.  Someone that belongs to me, who will never leave me like everyone else in my life has done.”  His eyes momentarily flashed a distant look of intense sadness and despair at those last words, but quickly regained their previous expression of fire and envy and rage. 

“ _Please_ …”  Despite his efforts to stay strong, tears spilled down Yoosung’s cheeks as he pleaded for his freedom, his future. His future with Eleanora.  He could not let go of the hope that maybe, just maybe, this nightmare could be ended peacefully.

 _"It doesn't have to be this way..."_   Yoosung's voice was barely a whisper.

"Oh, but I think it does.  Listen close, pet.  You WILL remain here, and you WILL stop begging and crying like a whiny child.”  Unknown’s voice was suddenly hard and loud, not unlike one of Yoosung’s least favorite college professors his freshman year.  He had skipped most of the classes, and barely passed the semester.

“If you do not do exactly as I say, or if you fail to please me in any way, I will dispose of you and get a different replacement.”  Tapping a finger against his lip and glancing upward in mock deliberation, “hmm…maybe even... _her?"_

Yoosung’s eyes widened with horror as he shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

 _“No...”_ his mouth formed the word, but his voice died in his throat.

“What was her name…umm… _Eleanora_ , wasn’t it?  I know exactly where she is.  I was the one who led her to that apartment.  I stalked her for days before I hacked her phone, installed the RFA app, and contacted her.  I know what she looks like.  Ha!  I even know what her bra size is!” Innocent Yoosung blushed at the mention of this personal detail. 

“Face it, Romeo, I know your girl better than you do!  I also know that she is lovely.  _Exceptionally_ so.  She's a real cutie pie... almost as cute as you, but not quite.” 

Unknown continued, “Honestly, as a couple, the two of you would approach terminal cuteness.  It’s probably for the best that you’ll never be together with her, because the whole world would get cavities from the excessive sweetness…”  His words trailed off as he stuck a finger in his mouth and picked at one of his upper molars.  “Which reminds me, I need to see a dentist soon...” 

Snapping back into the moment with a sadistic smirk, “I bet we could have a lot of fun with your pretty girl.  What do you think?”  He asked Yoosung, in a manner that was at once both playful and evil. 

Yoosung’s blood seemed to run hot and cold at the same time.  Terror tangled with rage, though he dared not disclose his anger, lest he cause Unknown to act on his threats.  “No!  _Please_...  Leave her alone.  She hasn’t done anything wrong.  Please don’t hurt her!”  His voice cracked as his throat tightened again, his shoulders shaking with poorly-concealed sobs.

“Hmm...  If I promise to not lay a hand on Eleanora, would you pledge your loyalty to me, stay with me, and obey me without question?” Unknown grinned, knowing that he had the quivering, crying boy right where he wanted him.

Through his sobs, Yoosung took a deep, but ragged breath.  “Yes…I’ll stay.  I…I’ll do… anything you want.  Just p-promise...not to hurt Eleanora, or… or anyone else in the RFA.”

“Anything…  _Really?”_ Unknown was clearly pleased.  “Very well, then. We will begin your training tomorrow.”  He flashed a toothy grin, suddenly taking on the excited air of a little boy in a candy store.  “We’re going to have so much fun!” 

He spun around, theatrically, like he was channeling his inner Benedict Cumberbatch performing a melodramatic Shakespearean soliloquy—although his mannerism more closely resembled Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow…only with a bit less rum and far more malevolence.  Mid spin, he froze, and turned back to Yoosung.  He added, his voice darkening slightly as he met Yoosung’s gaze, “Just to be clear, when I say ‘WE’, I really mean ME.  You probably won’t enjoy it much, unless you’re some kind of masochist sicko!  And I wouldn't be all that surprised if you are.  I guess we shall see, hmm?  Whatever.  I don’t care!”  He added with a giggle that suggested that he found himself quite hilarious. 

His goofy attempt at humor made him appear almost human for a split second…yet horribly grotesque and abnormal at the same time. 

What horrific circumstances could have created such a damaged, deeply disturbed individual?  There must be some humanity in there, but it resides underneath layer upon layer of things terrible enough to defy comprehension.

Unknown’s jovial mood did little to encourage Yoosung, who had slumped into himself, almost in a fetal position.  At this point, he was having a moment of mental clarity, during which came a series of dark realizations regarding his situation.  His tears came in an uncontrollable flood, his body trembling with quiet sobs. 

Unknown laughed at Yoosung’s pain and despair. 

Seeing this innocent boy shed tears somehow made Unknown feel good. 

Powerful.  Important.  In control. 

It was an intoxicating, addictive high that even the most powerful drugs couldn't possibly replicate.

He craved _more_. 

“That’s right, my pet.  Let it all sink in.  Get used to the idea that your life belongs to me now.  Your only value in this world is the value I say you have.  You are worthless to everyone else, and for any other purpose. You exist solely for my pleasure, and your life is at my discretion alone.  Once you accept your place and own your despair, you will be much easier for me to break you and mold you into my own toy.  It might even make this easier on you….or not.  Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!  Eh,  _Crimson_?  Or was it  _Violet?_   Oh yeah.... _SCARLETT_ ….  _Scarlett O’Hara_ , you know, from  _Casablanca_.  Gotta love the classics!!!!!  HA!”  More maniacal laughing; he seemed like a giddy kid.  

Clearly, this was a madman, and Yoosung was both confused and frightened by his odd behavior and thought process, which he found impossible to follow.  Did he really just paraphrase  _“Gone with the Wind”_  and then confuse it with " _Casablanca”?_   Who could confuse the two classic movies?

Another flick of a switch, and an oppressive darkness fell heavily over the room.  A loud clang of the big metal door announced that Unknown was leaving for the night. 

Yoosung was once again alone—cold, hungry, thirsty, in pain, and terrified of what the next day would bring.  

Shaking uncontrollably, he placed his head on his knees and wept freely, until he fell helplessly into an exhausted, broken sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Waiting for the Night to Fall--Depeche Mode https://youtu.be/vyrpRzdvp5U
> 
> Your Star--Evanescence https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEOKTDMmbAc


	3. Christmas Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just after midnight on Christmas morning. Eleanora has been pulling an all-nighter, using her computer to scan for any kind of signal that could possibly yield clues to Yoosung's whereabouts. As she ponders the events of the previous day, she drifts into a light sleep.
> 
> Suddenly, she is startled awake by an alert from her computer.
> 
> Could this be it...the breakthrough she's been waiting for?

**Chapter 3: Christmas Breakthrough**

Day 231—December 25th

* * *

 

12:19am

 

It had been a cold, rainy Christmas Eve in the city.  Eleanora had spent most of the day with her friends in the RFA.  That evening, she experienced her first RFA Christmas party at Jumin’s penthouse, which was, of course, as lavish as one would expect.  The normally festive mood at the party was subdued and somber this year, all comfort and joy drained away by the gut-wrenching void left by Yoosung’s absence.  Nobody felt comfortable speaking about him, yet his presence was very much felt by all in attendance.  None more so than by Eleanora, whose heart sat heavy in her chest, like a cold chunk of iron.

Unlike in years past, Zen did not get drunk and spontaneously try to sing karaoke, for which Jumin was thankful.  Jaehee, however, was a little bit disappointed.  She would never admit it, but she thought Zen was impossibly cute when he was drunk…as long as no pictures or video leaked out and went viral.  The resulting scandal would be disastrous to Zen’s budding career.  Jaehee personally stored any photos and video---only for safekeeping, _of course_.

It had taken Jaehee and Zen most of the previous week to talk Eleanora into agreeing to attend.  They thought it would be good for her to get out of the apartment and be around friends; a welcome distraction.

However, the party served the opposite effect.  After all, it was Christmas--a time when loved ones are supposed to be together.  Her most loved one was missing.  Instead of a distraction, it served to magnify the emptiness, the pain, the sickening feeling of knowing that this would have been... _should have been..._ their first Christmas together.  

It wasn't supposed to be this way.  Not like this.  

Just the same, the party was nice—far more elaborate than any she had ever attended—and Eleanora was even convinced to eat a small amount of the expensive food Jumin had brought in by high-dollar caterers. Everything was delicious, but it sat like a heavy stone in the pit of her churning stomach.

Eleanora was now back at her apartment, the party having ended hours ago.  She looked at the clock above her desk...it was past midnight.

 _Merry Christmas..._ for whatever it was worth. 

She sat at her computer, bleary eyes glued to the screen as endless streams of code flashed rapidly across.  She was hoping that the program she finally finished writing last month—and tweaked nearly two dozen times since then—would be able to find a tracing marker left behind by communication between Yoosung’s captor and the Mint Eye organization.  As Eleanora understood from her research, this was her best chance of finding a solid lead, at least, that her level of expertise and skill was capable of finding.  She had spent virtually every waking hour in the last few weeks working on this.

It had been apparent for a while that whoever had Yoosung was no longer directly affiliated with Mint Eye, but was still potentially using their sizable, clandestine communication networks through... unconventional ...means.  Considering what she had seen, this person had extremely high-level, professional hacking skills, and was likely accessing the decentralized network unbeknownst to Mint Eye—which had been forced to abandon its facility and go underground, its operatives scattered and disorganized in the wake of Seven’s hacking in and exposing their secret operation. 

Perhaps this was a rogue agent of Mint Eye?

Or maybe a lone wolf?

Either way, Eleanora was determined to find the connection and, from that, discover where Yoosung was being held.  Even if she had to go in by herself and save him, she was more than ready to do it. 

Sure, it would be dangerous. 

Probably even stupid.

 _So what?_  

He put himself in danger for her.  Her safety meant very little if it meant being without him.  Her existence right now could not possibly considered a  _life_.  It was just… _existing_. 

An existence that continuously lacerated her heart and ripped at the fabric of her soul.

She had been considering what she would do if the unthinkable turned out to be true—that Yoosung was dead.  In the darkest recess of her mind, she knew that she would no longer wish to continue living if he were not in the world.  She was no stranger to the kind of desperation that suffocates every particle of hope and willpower.  She had been standing on the brink of a hopeless abyss when Yoosung came into her life and gave her a reason to remain in the world, literally saving her life with his love before he even knew about Mint Eye and the bomb...and before he made the decision to risk everything to protect her.  

Losing him had sent her spiraling back into the darkness that threatened to consume her soul.  It was that tiny flicker of hope...the way she felt his presence when a lilting breeze caressed her hair, or the way she felt his heartbeat echoing in her own heart every time she thought of him...this is what kept her going. 

Finding him and bringing him back was the only purpose she felt in life.  If he was truly gone, then there would be no purpose left.  

She felt nauseous at the thought—she knew Yoosung would be horrified if he knew what she was thinking. 

She had already thought about what her exit strategy might be if absolute confirmation ever came. 

However, until she KNEW... _without a doubt._..that he was gone, she would stop at nothing to find him.  Yoosung was known to be stubborn...indeed, it was that stubbornness that got him into this mess.  However, there are few people in the world who can out-stubborn Eleanora Shipley.  Her Irish and Scottish lineage included some of the most ornery, tenacious...and **_stubborn_ ** individuals who ever drew a breath.

Pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her feet on the seat of her chair, she snuggled deeper into her fleece bathrobe against the cold invading the apartment from the frigid temperatures outside.  The cold rain that had persisted throughout the day had turned into a light snow.  It looked like it might even turn out to be a white Christmas, something she had never seen before.  Under normal circumstances, she would have been ecstatic—she loved snow—but at this point, she was incapable of any modicum of happiness. 

Instead, she scrutinized the weather conditions out to the east, where heavy snowstorms were blanketing the mountains and closing many of the access roads.  This worried her.  Her gut instincts were leading her to believe that Yoosung was most likely in the eastern highlands—after all, it’s a large, remote and largely unpopulated wilderness, with only a few tiny communities with permanent residents, a few abandoned farms in the valleys, and lots of mountain caves. 

In other words, it’s a huge area with tons of places to hide, and almost impossible to search thoroughly, even with armies of crews and all the time in the world.  It would be so easy to hide out there.  Surely, that’s where Yoosung was taken, Eleanora thought.  She prayed that, wherever her sweetheart was, that he was safe and warm.

Her wandering thoughts lulled her into a light sleep, her head bowed with her chin resting against her knees.

 

* * *

 

2:16am

 

BEEEEEEP…BEEEEEEP…BEEEEEEP

Eleanora sat bolt upright, completely ignoring both the painful stiffness that had developed in her neck, and the long strand of drool that was rolling off of her chin.  Her eyes were open wide, but it took a moment for them to focus on anything.

What time was it?  Her clock read 2:17 in the morning.

She stared at her screen to determine the source of the noise.

Was she really awake? 

 

‘MATCH FOUND’ flashed across her screen.  

 

What the...?

 _Wh-what...am I seeing?_  

She stared a bit longer before clicking on the message.  Still incredulous and convinced she was dreaming, she scrutinized the data in the marker.

It seemed to have all of the matching data signatures she was looking for—it was connecting to Mint Eye servers, it even has one matching the connection data from when Unknown first contacted her on her phone!  These indications all pointed to a very high likelihood that this tracer originated from the place where Yoosung was being held by Unknown.

 _I’m dreaming,_ she thought to herself, not daring to raise her hopes.  

Eleanora stared at the screen a little longer.  She took a long drink from her water bottle, letting the icy coldness wake up her mind as it washed down her throat.  She rubbed her eyes, smacked her hands against her cheeks, and examined the screen one more time. 

It was still there, a trace marker between the Mint Eye servers and a location that suggested that it was coming from an abandoned farm site in the mountains—just like Eleanora had suspected. 

_Oh my God._

_This…_

_This could actually be it._  

Was it possible that she had really found it?  Her mind raced, almost in time with the rapid pounding of her heart. 

She grabbed her phone.  It may have been after two in the morning, but she didn’t care.  Seven never slept anyway.  She willed her fingers to stop trembling as she pressed #2 on her speed dial (#1 was, and would always be, Yoosung's number).

Barely half of a ring sounded on the line before Seven picked up. 

“Hey, Eleanora!  Merry Christmas!"  He greeted her cheerfully.  "What are you doing up this late, waiting for Santa Claus?” 

Eleanora paused briefly, once again making sure she wasn’t dreaming the words she was about to speak.  Just the same, the words felt odd and cumbersome coming out of her mouth.

“Seven.  I—I just got…a  I’ve got…” she took a deep breath and tried again, “I think...I...." she fought to control her anxiety-induced stutter.

"Slow down, kiddo. Take a deep breath.  You sound like you've just seen a ghost," Seven said. 

Eleanora swallowed hard, once again trying to speak. _"I think I’ve found him.”_  

The words tumbled out of Eleanora's mouth, awkward and uneven, taking all of the air from her lungs with them.  It was so surreal and dreamlike to say those words.

“Whoa… _You What?!?_  Hold on, I’ll be right there.  _Don’t move, okay?”_   Seven’s words were followed by an unceremonious click as he abruptly ended the call.

The doorbell rang exactly six minutes later.  Which was _fast,_ considering he lived more than ten miles away across town.

“What did you do, fly over here?”  Eleanora quipped, but only half-jokingly.  Considering his skills, his connections, and his resources, she wouldn’t have been too surprised if Seven actually did tell her that he had, in fact, flew across town.  Maybe with a rocket pack or a personal helicopter, a la “Inspector Gadget”.  She had learned long ago not to put anything past the amazing Seven-Zero-Seven.  The guy was a wizard.

 “Sort of.  I hitched a ride with Santa.  Nice guy.  Reindeers smelled, though…and I didn’t get any presents.  Guess I was a naughty boy this year.”  Seven pouted.  Eleanora narrowed her eyes at him, not prepared to handle humor at a time like this, despite the tiny smirk that involuntarily seized her lips.

"Dammit, Seven!  Be serious!"  Eleanora chided.

“Alright, alright.  The truth.  My baby goes really fast, and I _may_ or _may not_ have broken a few traffic laws,” he grinned proudly.  Indeed, he did have a fast car.  Several, actually.  Eleanora wondered how fast he must have been going, and how he managed to maneuver through the traffic (even at 2am…the city never sleeps). 

Shaking her head vigorously to return her thoughts to the topic at hand, Eleanora showed him her findings.  

After taking a few moments to examine the data, Seven sat back, his gold eyes narrowed in thoughtful concentration.  

“I remember seeing a tracer a lot like this one, from the beginning of June, just a few weeks after…”  His voice trailed off, and he paused for a split-second.  Clearing his throat, he continued.  “I am 150% sure we’ve checked that area, multiple times, because of the activity we picked up in the vicinity.  There’s actually a little abandoned farm near there.  See it on this satellite image?” He pointed to a collection of three buildings clustered together—a house, a barn, and a small shed, surrounded by some small, open fields in a wooded valley high in the mountains.  It appeared to be an old dairy farm, like many others that once dotted the high mountain valleys.  The development of highly-efficient modern commercial farming technology largely wiped them out decades ago, except for a few family-owned artisanal farms that have managed to survive by catering to the hipster niche market.

“But…That’s where the tracer came from, Seven.  And, look, this data signature matches the ones from when Unknown first contacted my phone!  This _can’t_ be just a random coincidence.  He must be there!  Why else would there be any sort of information coming from such a remote location”

“But that area has been thoroughly searched, Eleanora.  Repeatedly.  Look at the search grid,” he said, gesturing at the large map pinned to the wall next to Eleanora’s desk, with the entire search area marked off in square sections.  He tapped his finger on the spot indicated by the GPS coordinates.  “This place is almost dead-center of the zone that was being searched.”

Sinking back into the chair next to Eleanora’s desk, Seven sighed, his eyes and his voice both heavy with a deep sadness. “There are a million reasons why a communications tracer would ping in a remote, unoccupied location like that.  That place is high in the mountains, which border the large river valley in which this city is located.  It’s entirely possible that the tracer was reflected by satellite by random accident.  Basically, background noise.  Happens fairly often.”

Eleanora was taken aback by Seven’s dismissive response to what she found.  She had expected him to be as excited about it as she was.  “Yes...projections.  I’ve read about them.  They are actually pretty rare, especially to be as detailed as this one.  There have only been three reported instances in the last ten years, and two of them were hackers relaying their server access to hideouts in the mountains.  The other was throwing their signal to a false location to try to hide their actual location.  Either way, those defunct buildings in that area are perfect places for someone trying to fly under the radar and cover their tracks.”

“That is only the number of reported and _investigated_ instances.  These are the exceptional cases.  I’ve seen evidence that suggest it’s much more common than that, but it’s easy enough to miss them that most go unseen and unreported.  I know for a fact that the vast majority are just accidental background noise.  Trust me, this is something I know a lot about.  I have used the phenomenon to my advantage many times.”

“You _seriously_ don't think this means anything?”  Incredulous, Eleanora was beginning to get flustered at Seven’s wholesale dismissal of what she thought was an extremely promising lead.  "Look at the data signatures!  They link all the right things together, even the phone that was originally used to contact me and send me to this apartment!  This is _no_ coincidence.  It's statistically _impossible_ for all of this line up so perfectly _by chance!"_

“Eleanora. It may or it may not have anything directly to do with him.  I do believe that it _could_ be a lead that needs further analysis, and I fully intend to pursue a full investigation on it first thing in the morning.  As for that location, I'm 100% certain that he's not there.  Search parties, with expert trackers and bloodhounds, have combed the area several times over the summer.  They were so thorough in searching the abandoned buildings, that some were even dismantled to their foundations.” I encountered some chatter a few days ago that indicated that he might not even be in the country anymore.  With all the arrests and legal proceedings getting started, Mint Eye members and operatives have been fleeing the country in droves, and any of them could have Yoosung with them.  By now, he could be anywhere in the world.” 

Seven sighed again.  Eleanora's heart ached as she noticed how thin and gaunt he had become.  His eyes, a flashy, fiery gold, were ringed with faint dark circles that his bright yellow and black-striped glasses couldn't disguise.  There was no doubt that Yoosung’s kidnapping was a tremendous weight on his shoulders. 

Looking into her eyes, he declared, “Eleanora, listen to me:  I will NEVER stop looking for Yoosung.  I am the one who got him into this mess.  I failed him, big time.  He’s a good kid, and he never deserved any of this.  I will never give up on him, and I know you’ll never give up on him, either.  I also don’t expect you to ever forgive me for letting this happen to him.  You shouldn’t.  But…we have both got to be prepared for the _possibility..._ that he’s not coming back.”  His voice crackled over the last three words.  His expression betrayed the immense pain and guilt that hung over him like a dead albatross.  A burden he would always carry, regardless of how this story was destined to end.

Eleanora sank deeper into her chair and buried her face in her hands, feeling overcome with despair.  It truly did seem like everyone was giving up.  Even Seven sounded like he was ready to admit defeat, despite his statement to the contrary.

 _How could she keep hope alive when nobody else would?_  

Unlike her angry reaction towards Jumin last week, she found it impossible to get angry at Seven.  Despite his unrelenting penchant for teasing Yoosung, they were good friends; Yoosung was like his little brother.  Eleanora fully comprehended his feelings of guilt regarding his part in the disappearance; she couldn't bring herself to lay blame on him, despite his repeated insistence that she should do so. 

Eleanora’s anger was crucial.  She had come to understand this very well.  Anger was the only emotion that gave her energy to keep going.  It kept her fighting.  It kept her stubborn and fiercely determined.  If she couldn’t find it in herself to get angry—and harness her rage, using it to clear any doubt or panic from her mind, channeling it in order to keep charging aggressively forward—she faced the danger of falling into the deep, murky, quicksand of depression.  She embraced her anger; in her quest to find Yoosung, her anger was her friend. 

A friend who was nowhere in sight when Agent 707 was around.

Seven stood behind her chair, placing his slender, but strong hands on her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Hey.  I know you’ve been working really hard.  I’m very impressed with how much you’ve learned and how you’ve put it to work in the search efforts.   Of course, you learned from the best!”  Naturally, Seven had to pat himself on the back, though his smile was one of the saddest Eleanora had ever seen. 

“Even though the physical search has been scaled back, we still have a sizeable army of hackers looking into every tiny little clue in cyberspace.  If he is still out there, we will find him.  I know you don’t want to hear this again, but you have to be patient and trust that all that can possibly be done, is being done.  And you have got to take care of yourself.  Yoosung would never want you to lose out on the sleep or food that you need, and you know it.  Have you eaten _at all_ today?”

“Just a little.”  Despite the impressive and tempting spread that had been provided at Jumin’s party, she had been unable to do much more than pick at any of the loaded plates that she was offered.

“Then, you need to eat right now.  I’ll go get you some late-night takeout.  If you’ll eat like a good girl, I’ll even leave you some Honey Buddha Chips to snack on while you work.  _But,_ you need to promise to get some sleep before you work anymore on this.  Understand?  Doctor’s orders.”

Eleanora grudgingly agreed.  “Yes, Doctor 707.”

“DOCTOR…Seven-Zero-Seven…?”  He said the words slowly, as if he were tasting them.  “I like it!  Maybe I’ll be a Doctor who flies around in a spaceship, fixing everyone’s problems using only my trusty electronic screwdriver, my skills, and my impeccable wit.” 

 _Great.  Now this goofball wants to be a Temporal Lord, like on that one TV show?_   Eleanora rolled her eyes and just barely contained what would have been a fairly loud groan.  She might have laughed, if she hadn’t felt so incredibly disheartened in the moment.

He laughed half-heartedly, then patted Eleanora on the head.  “That’s a good girl.  I’ll be right back with your food.”  With that, he was out the door.  

 _How was he going to find takeout at this hour, on Christmas Eve…or, morning, I guess it is now_ ….Eleanora wondered. 

Surprisingly—or…perhaps not so surprisingly (remember…Seven is a God/wizard/Temporal Lord who can do  _anything_ )—he returned shortly with some fried chicken.  The smell emanating from the bag made Eleanora’s mouth water.  She knew that Seven was going for what would be most tempting to her, and was a bit less concerned with what would pack the most nutritional punch.  He did a good job, and she found herself smiling as she thought about how glad she was that it wasn’t Jumin who was fetching her food.  He would have had his cooks prepare something nutritious, but dreadfully bland. 

Eleanora ate dutifully, even if she didn’t finish more than half a serving.  Over the past months, her stomach capacity had decreased quite a bit.  Just the same, Seven smiled approvingly at her as she ate. 

“Want a bite?” Eleanora offered.  "It's really good." 

Seven shook his head, “Nope, I’m full.  Been munching on Honey Buddha Chips all night.  I don’t wanna get fat!” 

 _“Are you saying that I’ll get fat if I eat this?”_ Eleanora faked indignation, trying to be funny as she licked her fingers.

Seven's eyes grew wide behind his glasses as he scrambled to correct his mistake.  “Oh!!! No! _Not at all!_  " He continued, "Even if you did, I think girls are more attractive when they have a little meat on their bones.” 

He blushed, realizing that what he just said could be taken the wrong way.  Without missing a beat, he added, “and I know that Yoosung feels the same way.”  Eleanora couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit at Seven’s near-fumble. 

She ate until she was full.  Seven beamed proudly.

“Good girl!  And now, as promised, I present to you, the exquisite flavor sensation of...Honey Buddha Chips!  Ta-dahhhh!”  Seven produced the bag with a ceremonious flourish from his jacket pocket, surprisingly uncrushed, and handed it to her. 

“Thanks.” Eleanora liked Honey Buddha Chips (who didn’t?) but at the same time, she couldn’t help but think about how absolutely crazy Yoosung is for the sweet, salty snacks.  She decided to save them for him.  They’d be a nice treat for him when he finally got home...

...whenever that might be, she thought, sorrow once again shading her mind.

“Do you think you’ll be okay for the rest of the night?” Seven looked at her anxiously, placing a comforting hand on her arm.  Since Yoosung has been gone, he’s felt extra protective of Eleanora, almost like a big brother.  It’s the least he can do for Yoosung to look after her in his absence.

“Yes, I’ll be alright.  Thank you, Seven.”  She managed a half-hearted, broken smile.  Suddenly, she felt the need to give the tall, red-headed goofball a big hug.  Caught off guard, Seven tenderly wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.  Eleanora buried her head into his chest, and Seven instinctively knew she was crying again.  He placed a hand on her head, gently stroking her glossy brown hair.

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier.  I never meant to discourage you.  I was only trying to help you avoid false hope, because I hate to see you hurting.  We’ll find him, Eleanora.  _I promise.”_ He squeezed her comfortingly.  Eleanora took a deep breath. 

Seven smelled like Honey Buddha Chips and PhD Pepper, as always.  Somehow, Eleanora took comfort in this.  No matter how awful things get, some things never change.

“I know we will.”  Eleanora whispered, trying to find courage in the affirmative statement, as if confidence alone will bring her beloved home.

As Seven walked out the door, he turned to Eleanora.  “I’m serious about you taking care of yourself," he said.  "No more hacking until you have had a reasonable amount of sleep.  Okay?” 

Eleanora nodded. "Okay.  But only as long as you get some rest too.  You look like you haven't slept in weeks, and I'm worried about you."

Seven cast his eyes downward at the floor, sighing heavily before glancing back up at Eleanora.  

"You're right...I haven't."  He suddenly seemed like a different person.  Distant...older...and so exhausted. 

"If it will make you feel better, I will take a short nap when I get home," he added. 

"It will make me feel better.  I know it's what Yoosung would want, too," Eleanora said softly.  

Seven nodded, his expression doing little to conceal the crushing burden of guilt and sadness he was carrying.

"I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon, okay?  We’ll go over the data again—maybe something will pop up in the meantime, so keep your system running.  Until then, I want you to get some rest," Seven said as he walked out the door.  Eleanora watched him walk away until he went around the corner of the hallway, then she closed the door.  

Intent upon keeping her promise, Eleanora climbed into her bed, turned off the light, and stared into the ceiling of the tiny apartment. 

More than any other of the RFA members (except Yoosung), Seven always knew exactly what to say to convince her to his point of view. 

Yes, he was absolutely right:  Yoosung would be very concerned about her lack of sleeping and eating.  She knew that she was of little use to the search effort if she was exhausted, so she may as well try to sleep. 

Though, how could anyone expect her to be able to sleep, when she still firmly believed that her Yoosung was being held at that abandoned farm in the mountains, possibly suffering, cold and afraid, waiting to be rescued? 

Her sweet, innocent, beautiful boy, so full of life and sunshine, whom she loved with her entire being, and who loved her the same?  

How can anyone sleep when their heart is being ripped to shreds? 

As she continued to lie there, thinking about her sweetheart, the tears began to flow again.  Despite everything, exhaustion finally claimed her weary mind, and she soon fell into a broken, but desperately needed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> An Angel Falls--Gabriel Yared, "City of Angels" Motion Picture Score https://youtu.be/ByOZWuC3vFE
> 
> Spreading Wings--Gabriel Yared, "City of Angels" Motion Picture Score https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fC9QCvvzpSA
> 
> Speak to Me--Amy Lee https://youtu.be/lB8ZsjMhy5M


	4. The Training of Yoosung Kim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two days since the ill-fated mission into Mint Eye. Unknown is anxious to break in his new "pet", and Yoosung is about to find out just how far into hell he has landed. 
> 
> This is where it gets dark, folks. If you're squeamish, it's okay to skip this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, folks...this is where things start to get really rough. 
> 
> I love Yoosung with all my heart, and this was REALLY gut-wrenching for me to write. It's still hard for me to read after the fact. My poor, sweet baby. Be assured, though, that I spend the next two to three works that are coming up in this series doing my best to make it up to him!
> 
> The darkness here is important, though, because I think it gives a lot of insight into Unknown/Saeran's psyche, and just how deeply broken and damaged this poor soul is. I tried to be very careful to not cast blame on him, because he truly doesn't know any better (which is more than I can say for CERTAIN other characters... _I'm looking at you, Rika_ ).
> 
> As the saying goes..."hurt people, hurt people". He can't help himself...he has been abused and tormented his entire life. How does a person cope when they have only experienced pain and betrayal? Saeran knows no other way to offload his suffering, than to inflict it on someone else...and thanks to his experience with Mint Eye, he's gotten very good at that.
> 
> I feel like the tragedy of this situation is compounded by the notion that (in my opinion, anyway) if his plan had gone like he wanted, and he had ended up with his brother instead of Yoosung, Seven would have been able to get through to him and get him the help he needed. Not only would he have had the advantage of being Saeran's brother and knowing him better than anyone else, he also would have benefitted from his training as a secret agent, which would have undoubtedly given him an edge in communication and negotiation. 
> 
> Yoosung, however, had none of these advantages, and was pretty much at the mercy of Saeran's unstable, erratic whims from the get-go. He had no clue who this guy was, his connection to Seven, or the context of their horrendous and abusive upbringing. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope this gives a little insight into the story. Thanks for reading! As always, I love my readers and I welcome any and all comments--let me know what you think...what you like, what you don't like, or what I can improve. 
> 
> Please be kind, though! I'm actually pretty insecure about my writing, and it took a lot of courage to post this for others to see! :)

**Chapter 4: The Training of Yoosung Kim**

Day 3—May 11th

* * *

 

6:57am

 

A loud bang of a metal door, followed by blinding light, shocked Yoosung into alertness.  He had slept, if you can call it that, on the cold concrete floor of his tiny cell, which was more like a cage.  Every part of him hurt; he could barely straighten out his limbs.  He was extremely dehydrated; his lips dry and cracked, his mouth completely dry, and he was unable to swallow.  His throat felt like it was on fire.  He no longer felt hungry, but instead, felt like his strength had been completely drained away, leaving behind a foggy, confused headache and a crushing, burning weakness that threatened his ability to move any part of his body. 

“Wow.  You look even worse now than you did last night!  Didn’t you sleep well?”  Unknown was kneeling on the other side of the metal bars of Yoosung’s cage, the mock concern in this voice hardly disguising the obvious glee he was feeling at Yoosung’s sorry state.  “Here, take a look for yourself.”

He held out a mirror, and Yoosung saw himself for the first time in the two days of his captivity.  He barely recognized his own reflection.  His skin was pale, he still had crusty flecks of dried blood on the right side of his face and in his hair, his eyes were sunken in, and the right eye had a nasty bruise around and above it from the one-inch gash just above his eyebrow.  His lips were cracked and bloody, and his violet eyes were pale and dim…as if the life were gone from them.  He looked away when he had seen enough of his sad reflection.

Unknown chuckled.  “We probably should clean you up a bit before we get started.  But first…”

He opened the door of the enclosure, and stepped inside.  He had to stoop down a bit to avoid hitting his head on the top of the cage, which was only about five feet high.  He produced a leather collar from his back pocket, and fastened it tightly around Yoosung’s neck.  From another pocket, he pulled a long, leather lead, like a dog’s leash, and fastened it to the collar.  Stepping back out of the cage, he gave the leash a tug.  “Come, pet.”  Yoosung’s face flushed in shame, but he wriggled his way out of the cage, as best he could with his hands and feet still firmly bound with the thick leather cuffs.  He felt like a dog.  No…this was worse.  He would never treat a dog the way he was being treated.

He emerged from the cage, and awkwardly managed to stand upright.  His muscles stretched and ached as he stood up in the first time in three days.  Looking around him, he surveyed the room in which he was being kept.

He was in a good-sized room, about 20 by 30 feet, with a ceiling of about 15 feet.  From the ceiling rafters hung several thick chains.  Some had large hooks on them, others had thick iron rings.  One was attached to a pulley at the ceiling. 

The walls, made of stone and concrete, were completely devoid of windows, save for one small, rectangular one high up, covered with bars, through which he could see long, green grass, with a brilliant blue sky beyond.  A breeze ruffled the blades of grass framing the window.  Yoosung longed to feel that breeze and sunshine on his face.  It had only been a few days, but Yoosung was already losing track of time; he felt like he had been there at least a week already.

From his observations, he could conclude that he was underground—probably in a basement or cellar.  In the corner, the only door to the room was a large, heavy one made of dark metal, with a tiny barred window near the top.  It looked ancient, and the fixtures on it seemed badly rusted.  The walls had several metal loops bolted into the stone, to which things could be hung or fastened. 

The only other structural detail in the room was a large ventilation grate, high up on the wall across from the window.  There seemed to be a circle of fan blades in the darkness of the other side of the grate.  It was rusty and looked like it hadn’t been used or cleaned in years.  Perhaps that accounted for the dank, musty smell that permeated the stagnant air of the room.

In the way of furnishings, the room was just as sparse as the structure.  Aside from the metal cage near the center of the room, one wall featured a long row of simple wooden counters and cabinets, like what you’d see in a kitchen, but appearing more like its original intent was for working than for food preparation.  There was a deep stone sink, and a small microwave sitting near a small stack of dishes.  There was a large wooden cart near the cabinets that seemed to contain a collection of metal implements—rods, hooks, and some other things that Yoosung couldn’t identify, but felt an overwhelming sense of fear from the mere sight of them.  A rack on the wall just beyond the cart contained an assortment of leather straps, whips, what appeared to be horse riding crops, and a large collection of harnesses, ropes, and varying lengths of chain. 

A plain, wooden dining table with two chairs sat near the cart.  Across the room, there was a very narrow bench, like a carpenter’s sawhorse, about 10 feet from the wall and running parallel to it, and it appeared to be bolted to the floor.  There was what appeared to be an electrical service box near the door.  The floor was solid concrete, and the entire room was cold, despite the warm spring temperatures outside.  There was no sign of anything comfortable or comforting anywhere in the room. 

In his clouded, muddled, half-starved mind, Yoosung slowly came to the realization, from what he had observed around the room, that he was most likely about to be tortured.  Fear clutched his throat like a fist, and he began to shake uncontrollably.  He had a very low tolerance for pain, and the thought of what likely lay ahead sent dizzying flashes of dread through him like rapid thunderbolts.

Like a shark circling blood in the water, Unknown sensed the fear rising in his prisoner.  He smiled sadisticly as he traced his fingertips along Yoosung's cheek, down his neck, and along the portion of his collarbone that was exposed above the neckline of his t-shirt. 

“What is it, my pet?  Are you scared?” he cooed in mock concern, which did nothing to conceal his palpable glee at the control he was already exerting upon his new toy. 

“Aww...don’t worry; I’m going to take care of you.  Yes, I’m going to hurt you... _a lot._  But, I’ll make sure you won’t die….at least not until I decide that you should.  But I don’t have any plans to kill you at the moment.  You’re my play thing, and I want you fully able to enjoy and participate in our fun!  Oh, I mean,  _MY_  fun!”  He giggled, but with a sickening lack of mirth.  

The sheer terror that wracked Yoosung’s trembling body clearly showed in his wide eyes, which were brimming with tears.  He wanted to say something, but no words would come.  He wanted to beg for mercy, for forgiveness, for leniency, ANYTHING, that would save him from what was surely coming.  Anything that would reach the humanity of this depraved person.

But, Unknown made it clear last night, if he didn’t submit to whatever Unknown wanted to do to him, he’d go after Eleanora.  He had to go through this for her.  To protect her…to save her from this terrible fate.  This thought summoned up a bit of courage, and his trembling subsided somewhat.  He had to be brave for the girl he loved.  He had to be strong for her.  He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself.

“First, we should get you some food.  You can’t serve me very well if you don’t keep your strength up.  I bet you’re a bit thirsty, too.”  Unknown reached into one of the cabinets, and retrieved a can of vegetable soup.  From another cabinet, he retrieved a bowl and a glass.  He dumped the soup into the bowl and placed it into the microwave, then filled the glass with water.  He sat the water on the counter, and then approached Yoosung, still standing shakily outside the cage with his hands and feet bound together.

“Hmm, you’re not going to get far like that,” Unknown indicated Yoosung’s bound feet.  Walking over to the rack on the wall, Unknown selected a chain that was about two feet long, returned to Yoosung, and attached the chain to the cuffs on his ankles.  This allowed him barely enough room to walk in small steps.

“Come, doggy”, he commanded Yoosung, giving the leash a yank.  Yoosung, nearly falling over, complied by taking tiny steps toward Unknown, who directed him to sit in one of the chairs at the dining table.  He then used some rope to tie Yoosung to the chair, so that he was unable to get up or move his arms and hands.  “If you can show me that you can be trusted to behave, maybe I won’t always have to tie you up like this at mealtime.”

The microwave beeped, and Unknown collected the hot bowl of soup and the glass of water, placing both on the table next to Yoosung.  He pulled the other chair around to face Yoosung, sat down, and proceeded to feed him with a spoon.  The soup was hot, and burned Yoosung’s mouth; he sputtered a little before quickly swallowing it, searing his already sore throat as it went down. 

“It’s too hot”, Yoosung said quietly, afraid to voice any complaints, but also afraid of having his mouth and throat scorched again.

“Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?”  Unknown snapped, annoyed at the complaint.  “In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t a five-star hotel.  You had better be happy that I’m even giving you food at all.  I don’t exactly have an endless supply of food here, and I sure as hell don’t have to share it with an annoying, pathetic dog like you.  I’ll have to teach you some manners when we’re done here.”  Something about the tone of Unknown’s last sentence made Yoosung tremble.

“I’m sorry,” Yoosung whispered meekly, as he stared at the floor.

“Yes, you will be, very soon,” The ominous words slid like snakes over Unknown’s teeth.  He shoved several more bites into Yoosung’s mouth, barely allowing him time to swallow each one. 

Unknown then grabbed the glass of water and pushed it to Yoosung’s parched mouth.  “I don’t have to give you this, but you won’t be of much use for me if I let you die from dehydration.  So here,” he said, tilting it up, allowing Yoosung to drink.  Yoosung took in as much of the fluid as he could.  It tasted awful, like rust and dirt, but he didn’t care.  It was wet and cool, and felt marvelous as it drenched his dry mouth and throat.  He quickly finished the glass.

“Can I please have some more water?”

“Maybe in a bit, if I feel like it.  I’m anxious to get started with our day.  Today, we begin your training.  I am going to teach you how to be the perfect, obedient little pet.” 

Yoosung trembled, and his meal threatened to come right back up from his unsettled stomach.  Unknown must have sensed Yoosung’s wave of nausea, because he added, “if you throw up, I swear to God I will make you wish you had never been born!” 

Little did he know (or maybe he did), Yoosung was fast approaching that point anyway.  

Just the same, Yoosung swallowed hard, and willed his stomach to settle.  He did not want to do anything that would make his situation worse than it was already.

Unknown untied Yoosung from the chair, stood him up, and led him to the other end of the room, directly under one of the chains that hung from the ceiling.  Pulling his shackled wrists upward, he hooked them together onto the end of the chain.  He then went to the wall, where the chain was connected to a crank, and turned the crank.  This pulled Yoosung upward by his wrists until he was barely able to touch the floor with his toes. 

Unknown walked back over to Yoosung, grinning with satisfaction as Yoosung tried to balance himself on his toes.  He grimaced as his balance faltered, causing his weight to pull against his wrists—which were rubbed raw from wearing the cuffs for the past few days.  “You’re so cute when you’re helpless!” he crowed with glee, as if he had seen an adorable baby animal at the zoo. 

“Let’s get rid of some of these ridiculous clothes.  You dress like a child.  What are you, five years old?”  Unknown pulled a utility knife from his pocket, and proceeded to slit Yoosung’s hoodie until it fell to the ground in shreds.  Then, he made quick work of his t-shirt until it met the same fate.  Bending down, he removed Yoosung’s sneakers and socks, so that he was hanging from the ceiling, arms stretched high above his head, wearing only a leather collar and his jeans. The pull against his slight frame forced the muscles in his back, sides and abdomen to strain, rippling under his pale, smooth skin.

Yoosung was not what anyone would consider to be muscular, but the way his body was being stretched emphasized and enhanced his muscle tone, much to the delight of his captor.

“Wow, who knew such a wimpy, pathetic little kid like you would turn out to be so sexy?  I’m very pleased!”  Unknown was eyeing his prisoner with a gaze that made Yoosung flush with humiliation.  He was desperate to say something, to plead for his freedom, but he knew that anything he said would likely make his situation worse--and possibly endanger Eleanora, which is something he would never risk.  Instead, he hung his head to the ground, avoiding Unknown’s piercing green eyes, and trying his best to hide the tears spilling onto his face.

“What...you’re crying  _again?_  My God, you’re such a pathetic little baby.  I honestly don’t know what your girlfriend sees in you.  You’re so fucking  _annoying!”_ Unknown sneered at the now openly sobbing Yoosung.  “Let’s see if we can give you something to legitimately cry about.”

Unknown went over to the rack, pausing to survey the available choices, then selected a leather whip.  It was thin, but consisted of dozens of small, braided leather strips twisted and woven together, each forming regular teeth-like ridges all along the whip’s length.  While the teeth weren’t really sharp, they were more than capable of delivering a lacerating bite to the skin when struck with a skilled hand.  Uncoiling it, he stood a few feet behind Yoosung’s back.  He took his swing, and the whip whistled through the air as it flew toward its mark.

CRACK!  

The rough leather tore into Yoosung’s flesh just above the small of his back, with expert accuracy. 

The sharp sound echoed through the room, immediately followed by an agonized, piercing scream, which lasted until Yoosung’s lungs were completely emptied of breath.  His body bucked and jerked wildly but ineffectually against the chain that held him. After his scream subsided, he still hung there, eyes round and unfocused, vacant in expression, hot tears streaming down his face and neck, his mouth still agape.  His face was a deep crimson.  His lungs felt like they could collapse…he could not breathe, he could not think.  The searing pain was unbearable; he felt like his back had been flayed open down to his spine.

“Holy fuck, you are a loud, whiny bitch.  You’re going to give me a headache if you keep that up.  Let’s see what I can do to fix this.”  A loud, protracted gasp cut the air as Yoosung struggled to draw air back into his lungs.

Unknown went back over to the rack, and picked up a ball gag.  He walked slowly back over to Yoosung, making eye contact with him as he approached.  He relished the pain and terror in his captive’s pale violet eyes, now red and bloodshot.  As he reached up to place the gag into Yoosung’s mouth, he rested his hands on either side of Yoosung’s face, and, with a swipe of his thumbs, he wiped away his tears.  Cold emerald eyes stared into wide, terrified amethyst ones.  “You are so beautiful like this.  And almost irresistible when you’re helpless and suffering.  I can't wait to see what you're like when you're utterly broken.”  He said, with a gentleness—almost a reverence—that both frightened and confused his helpless prisoner. 

“Open wide,” commanded Unknown, as he grasped Yoosung's trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling down.  Yoosung obeyed, opening his mouth to accept the large rubber ball.  Unknown then shoved the gag deep into Yoosung’s mouth, filling it with the hard rubber.  The ball was almost too big, and Yoosung’s jaw ached under the strain as his mouth was forced open beyond its normal capability.   Yoosung was now completely unable to breathe or get any sound from his mouth.  His nose was running and slightly stuffy from crying, so it became more difficult to catch his breath using only his nose.  He soon had saliva and snot running down his face and falling in thin streams from his chin.  None of this registered much in his consciousness, though.  All his mind could focus on was the raging hot, raw, stinging welt that had just landed across the small of his back.  Tiny rivulets of blood were forming along the narrow strip of freshly seared flesh.

The next strike of the whip fell hard and without warning across Yoosung’s shoulder blades.  Being hit across the bony protrusions hurt a hundred times more than the first strike; the scales of the leather whip bit deeper into the flesh, ripping bits of it away and leaving a raw, bleeding mess.  Feeling the tiny chunks of flesh effectively being flayed from his back, Yoosung almost blacked out.  His involuntary scream was successfully contained by the gag, and only a pitiful, broken whine was heard through the rubber that filled his mouth.  Eyes rolling back in his head, his body lolled forward for a moment as his legs failed him, but the pain this put on his sore wrists forced him to regain his footing as best he could.  His toes, bare against the hard concrete, cramped and ached under the burden of supporting most of his body weight.  Quiet sobs rocked his exhausted body.  The next lash hit off-center of his back, the end of the whip curling around Yoosung's right side and ripping into the sensitive area just above his hip.  His knees buckled.  The only sounds he made were muffled grunts and moans as his head hung limp, his chin dropped onto his chest.

The onslaught of the leather whip continued for almost half an hour.  After each blow of the whip, Unknown would stop to admire the quivering, bloody mess that was his captive pet.  His joy at Yoosung’s suffering could barely be contained.  For him, it was a spiritual experience, oddly cleansing, purging all of the hurt dealt to him over his miserable lifetime by those who were supposed to protect him.  It was a release…a relief…and he was fast becoming addicted to this incredible feeling—of having complete control over another person, and projecting a lifetime of pain onto that person.  He felt _powerful_ :  a weird, twisted sense of happiness...the first time in his life that he was anywhere close to feeling happy.

By the time the ordeal was over, Yoosung’s back and sides were a mess of thin, angry red welts, some of which were oozing small trickles of blood.  Yoosung was still sobbing softly, but only an exhausted, half-hearted whimper could be heard from behind the gag.  His body hung helplessly by his wrists; his legs having long since given out.  Head falling backward and eyes closed tightly, Yoosung silently prayed for the sweet relief of death to take him, or at least to fall unconscious, but sadly, neither would come and save him from this agony. 

This was only the beginning of his personal, living hell.  Mercifully, Unknown’s appetite for Yoosung’s suffering was sated for the time being, so he decided to allow him to spend the remainder of the day “resting” in his cage, while he retreated to his quarters to take a nap himself.  He even allowed his prisoner to have his wrists unbound, though his legs remained shackled, and the ball gag remained firmly in place. “Can’t spoil you too much, my pet,” he snarled with a fake, saccharine sweetness.  Yoosung laid in one place, not moving one inch, and cried until he fell into a broken, fitful sleep.  He dreamed of Eleanora.  He didn’t know what she looked like physically, but his soul recognized hers, and he felt her spirit with him—and that was something that no amount of suffering could take away.  He could endure anything for her, and he felt honored to be in the position to prove it.

 

* * *

 

Day 4—May 12th

9:08am

 

The next morning, Yoosung could barely move.  Not only were his limbs sore and stiff, but any movement at all caused a searing pain in his back and sides, the skin of which was nearly completely covered in swollen welts.  Some were crimson and raw, still seeping blood, while others were angry bruises ranging in color from shades of blue, to purple, to dark pink.  He had a terrible headache from the long hours of reduced oxygen supply forced upon him by the gag, as he could only breathe about half as well with his mouth full of rubber. 

Though his hands were left unbound throughout the night, it had never occurred to him that he could remove the gag himself.  He simply accepted its presence as a given.  The training was progressing well.

The metal door banged, announcing Unknown’s morning arrival.  He stormed into the room, seemingly in an anxious mood.  He paced back and forth, and around Yoosung’s cage, while Yoosung followed intently with his sunken, bloodshot eyes, still not willing to move his body.

“There’s been a search party poking around outside.” he said, irritability lacing his words. Taking on a subtle tone of condescension, he added, “I do believe they might have been looking for you.” 

He then got a terrible idea.  “Thought I might have even seen your lady friend out there.  Man, she looks terrible.  She was crying and calling your name.  So, so sad!  She looks almost as cute in tears as you do!”  He lied, laughing cruelly. 

Of course, even though he didn’t get a very good look at the search crew, he was relatively certain that Eleanora wasn’t among them.  However, that didn’t stop him from taking the opportunity to mind-fuck his helpless captive.  He relished the look on Yoosung’s face—a strange mixture of hope, mixed with anguish and terror at the thought of his sweet girl being anywhere near this vicious, dangerous madman. 

The look of false hope in Yoosung’s eyes reminded Unknown so much of his own experiences.  Someone important from his past _promised_ he’d come back for him.  Countless times he would hear footsteps, a door opening or closing, anything at all, really—but that glimmer of hope would always end up being crushed out like a discarded cigarette. 

 _What could this…pathetic boy—this…privileged college student…possibly know about suffering?!?!_    Unknown's irrational thoughts fueled a fiery-hot rage that took aim directly at his hapless, innocent prisoner.

 _This boy must suffer,_ reasoned Unknown.  Hemust be made to feel the same level of pain that he was forced to experience over a lifetime of physical and mental abuse.  As these thoughts wrestled furiously in his mind, he became enraged by his own confusion, and his outward expression grew sinister.  

He knelt down to Yoosung’s level and looked him dead in the eyes. “Don’t get that pathetic, hopeful look on your face.  It’s not like they’re actually going to find you.  This place is completely off the grid, and there’s not even a record of it in the local government’s property files.  As far as anyone knows, this place doesn’t exist.  Which is precisely why I brought you here.” 

Yoosung’s eyes lowered, the hopeful flicker in his eyes dying out like an extinguished candle.  Pleased with the mental torment he was inflicting, Unknown continued, “That rich boy Jumin Han can send all the high-dollar search teams his trust fund money can afford…all they’re going to see is an old, abandoned farm site, like dozens of others around the region.  Nobody will hear you scream, either--this place is completely soundproof."

Unknown regarded Yoosung’s defeated expression.  “Aww, Don’t look so sad!  It doesn’t mean that we aren’t going to still have some fun today!”  Unknown was almost singing with excitement.  He opened the cage, and yanked Yoosung out.  He whimpered into his gag as he was forced by the pull of the leash onto the seared flesh of his back.  Unknown laughed at his suffering.  “Oh, I’m sorry….did that hurt?” he sneered sarcastically.  “No, actually I’m not sorry at all!  Ha!”  He laughed as if he had made a funny inside joke. 

He fastened Yoosung’s hands together and led him to the narrow sawhorse bench near the wall.   “Stay here.  If you move, your girlfriend dies,” he ordered sternly.  “It would be so easy to lure her in, with her right outside,” he gleefully lied through his teeth.  Not knowing any better, Yoosung stood perfectly still while Unknown went to the rack and surveyed the different lengths of chain.  Believing that his love was possibly nearby, he couldn’t stop the tears sliding silently down his cheeks. 

“I think these ones will do,” he muttered as he selected a pair of chains each about six feet long.  After unfastening the wrist cuffs from each other, one end of each chain was attached to each wrist, and the other ends of the chains were attached, about six feet apart, to the wall directly in front of him.  This pulled Yoosung’s arms so that he was forced to bend at his waist, which was firmly pressed against the wooden bench. He was left bent at a 90-degree angle, hips and waist anchored firmly against the bench, his arms apart and outstretched in front of him.  Walking around Yoosung’s backside, he knelt down and removed the chains that connected his ankles.  Kicking his feet outward to the sides, causing his legs to spread apart, he fastened each ankle to the legs of the bench.  Yoosung was now tightly held in place, legs spread, body bent at the waist into a 90-degree angle, arms tightly stretched out in front of him.  There was no comfortable or natural position for him to place his head, so he laid it awkwardly on his outstretched upper arms.  His ruined back was prominently on display, stretched excruciatingly to the point where some of the fresh wounds from the previous day began to bleed again.  

Unknown could be heard rummaging through something.  Then, slow footsteps announced his approach from behind.  Suddenly, Yoosung felt arms circling his waist, then hands reaching for the front of his jeans and fumbling with the button and zipper.  Realizing what was likely about to happen to him, Yoosung started struggling in panic against his restraints.  The ball gag still in his mouth, he could not speak, but he still desperately tried to beg Unknown to not do this.  He was still a virgin; he didn’t want his first sexual experience to be like this. 

 _“Please, no.  Not this.  Anything but this.  Please don’t.  I don’t want this.  Please don’t…..”_   All that came from his gagged mouth was a series of grunts and whining, punctuated by scratchy breaks in his failing voice.

“Shut up.”  Unknown barked coldly.

CRACK!  A thick leather strap landed with impressive force squarely across Yoosung’s violated back.  A scream tried to escape his gagged mouth, but only a hoarse squeak would come from his throat.  He clenched his eyes shut.  He wanted to cry, but his body was too shocked to comply.  Every muscle tensed, and he felt like he could die on the spot.  He WANTED to die on the spot.  His vision dimmed, but the blessed relief of unconsciousness wouldn’t claim him.  The only thing that snapped him out of his delirium of agony was the sensation of tugging on his jeans, followed by the sound of a blade ripping through the thick denim as his jeans were cut away.  The blood and dirt stained fabric fell to the floor in pieces.

Soon, he was left in this compromised position with only his boxer shorts providing only a small pretense of protection from whatever violation was surely coming.  Unknown worked slowly in removing these, clearly savoring the pain and humiliation he was inflicting on his prisoner.  In moments, Yoosung was completely naked.  He had never felt so vulnerable and humiliated.  The rough wood of the sawhorse bench dug splinters into his hips as he wriggled—trying desperately to hide, to escape, anything to avoid what was about to happen to him.

“You have such a gorgeous ass. I could worship it.”  Unknown seemed almost reverent in his observation.  He caressed it tenderly, making Yoosung squirm awkwardly in his unforgiving restraints.  “I am now going to claim it as my own, my plaything, to do with as I wish.”  Withdrawing his hand, Unknown brought it down again with a hard slap across a flawless pale cheek.  Yoosung jumped and gave a shocked squeak.

The sound of a zipper broke the silence, and Yoosung felt a hard, warm object press at his backside.  He had never had any kind of sexual experience, at least, not with another person, but he had a fairly good idea of what was about to happen.  His mind raced in panic, as he desperately tried to disassociate himself from his body.  He wanted to faint, or even die—anything but be mentally present for what was about to happen to him.  He felt Unknown’s hands spread open his butt cheeks, and the hard knob of Unknown’s cock pressed at the opening, where it paused for a moment.  Yoosung clenched his eyes shut and tried to brace himself.  Unknown paused, his cock at full attention and standing at the ready just outside of its intended target. 

“Oh, wait, I forgot something important.  I’m getting a little too eager, I guess.  How could I not with a beautiful virgin ass like yours is just waiting to be taken—like an unwrapped gift on Christmas morning!”  He walked around to Yoosung’s head, stepping over one of the chains that held his hands, so that he was standing between his helpless, tightly outstretched arms, his erection was pointing directly into Yoosung’s horrified face.  Disgusted and embarrassed, Yoosung tried to turn his head away.

“No, no, no...my beautiful little pet.  Face me.”  Unknown crooned softly.  Yoosung complied, fearful of what any alternative response might bring.

Unknown reached around the back of Yoosung’s head and unfastened the gag, which fell unheeded to the floor.  After being partially unable to breathe for hours, Yoosung instinctively and immediately tried to take a deep breath through his mouth.  With the reflexes of a lynx, Unknown moved in one fluid motion, grabbing each side of Yoosung’s head by his hair, yanking his head back, and shoving his throbbing cock into Yoosung’s open, gasping mouth.

“If I feel any teeth, they will be ripped out, one by one.  That’s not a threat—it's a promise.” Unknown growled as he began thrusting in and out.  Yoosung’s eyes clenched shut, as he did his best to accommodate the invading member.  Unknown thrust deeper and deeper, never loosening the hold on his captive’s hair, so that he had complete control.  Yoosung tried to suppress his gag reflex, but failed miserably. 

“Uggg, Ugggh, Uhhnnggg,” he choked, as he became aware of Unknown’s balls slapping at his chin, and his nose being crammed into thick, dark pubic hair.  Yoosung was repulsed by the musky odor of Unknown’s crotch, and tried not to breathe, and he kept his eyes tightly shut.  He tried to mentally separate himself from this disgusting and humiliating place with every exhausted and agonized fiber of his being, but it was impossible.  His mind began to spin in dizzy confusion as he slowly began to suffocate, forcing him to gasp for air at every opportunity.

The face-fucking continued for several minutes.  Unknown had no particular rhythm, varying from slow, long thrusts, to fast, jerky ones.  Not once did he release Yoosung’s hair or the vise grip he had on his head.  Yoosung repeatedly felt the urge to throw up, but fought hard against it, fearful for what might happen if he did.  Unknown moaned softly and Yoosung could feel the cock in his mouth grow even harder, and pulsate slightly.

“Suck it,” Unknown ordered.  Yoosung did his best to obey, sucking until his cheeks sank inward.  He felt even more degraded by the vulgar slurping sounds that resulted from his efforts. 

“Mmmmm….that’s right.  _Good boy_.”  Unknown cooed the words of praise as if he was speaking to a dog who was mastering a new trick.  He released his fistful of blond hair to gently stroke the side of Yoosung’s head, as if rewarding an obedient puppy.

Suddenly, Unknown pulled out. Breathlessly, he exclaimed, “Wow… _You are a natural!_   Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”  He chuckled as he stroked Yoosung’s cheek with his cock, which was now dripping with saliva. 

“I never expected you to be so good with your pretty little mouth.  It was really hard to pull out before I finished.  However, I must save my load for that spectacular ass!”  Yoosung’s mouth was slack, and he was left gagging and coughing on the saliva and pre-cum fluids that had made their way into his windpipe as he gasped for air.  Humiliated, he dropped his head to avoid Unknown’s eyes. 

Returning to Yoosung’s backside, he once again spread the cheeks open to expose Yoosung’s pink, tight hole.  Without warning, as Yoosung was still trying to clear his airway and catch his breath, Unknown shoved his cock in all the way, all at once.  As he buried his full length into Yoosung’s body, he felt his member tearing mercilessly through the small, tight muscles that control the opening, causing immediate bleeding. 

Yoosung’s head shot back, his back arched, and a blood-curdling scream escaped his lips, continuing until his voice was completely gone and the only sound he could make was a weak, raspy groan. 

No pain he had experienced so far compared to this.  He felt like he was being sawed in half from the inside.  

Unknown smiled maniacally, moaning loudly in ecstasy as he plowed in and out of his squirming, gagging, coughing, sobbing mess.  He gripped Yoosung’s hips so tightly that his long, black polished fingernails dug into his pale, soft flesh.  

Yoosung’s head dropped, as he was once again nearing blackout.  His shaking fingers wrapped tightly around the metal chains attached to his wrists, holding on with a deathgrip as the excruciating violation continued.  Darkness clouded his vision, and he felt tantalizingly close to losing consciousness, which would be a welcome respite.  Uncontrollable sobs wracked his body; the deep, guttural heaves caused involuntary muscle contractions which only served to add to his tormentor's pleasure, signaled by even more intense moaning.  

 _“You…Feel…So…Fucking…Good."_ He punctuated each word with a thrust and a grunt. _"Mmmm…that's right...clench for me.  Such a good boy."_

As Unknown neared his finish,  the room fell quiet; the only sounds that could be heard are the odd, wet squelching sounds from Unknown’s thrusts, and Yoosung’s weak, desperate sobs. 

Finally, Unknown found his release, groaning in pleasure, and draping himself over his helpless, sobbing victim, completely spent. 

Underneath him, Yoosung was left bent over, hanging limp like a dishtowel over the bench.  Every ounce of strength was drained from his body, as his own blood, mixed with Unknown’s semen, streamed in thin red and pink ribbons down both of his legs and onto the floor.

Just before standing up to put his pants back on  Unknown spoke softly into Yoosung's ear.  _“You are amazing.  I have never felt that good in my life.  You are mine, forever.”_  

Yoosung heard the words, but didn’t comprehend them.  His eyes were still clenched shut, his face still contorted in agony, his mind unable to fully process the overwhelming pain; he was certain that his insides had been shredded. 

Moving around to face Yoosung directly, Unknown gently stroked Yoosung’s red, tear-soaked cheek.  Slipping his hand under his chin, and tenderly lifting his head up to face him, Unknown bent down and planted a kiss on Yoosung’s forehead. 

“Thank you,” he whispered to his unwilling lover, almost reverently, and without so much as a hint of irony.

 

* * *

 

Day 5—May 13th

10:22am

 

Yoosung had pleased his captor well the previous day, so he was treated to a more proper breakfast of an omurice (without ketchup) and orange juice for breakfast.  Unknown even allowed him to feed himself, only tying him to the chair from the waist down, leaving his hands free, though, as always, he still wore the thick leather cuffs.  The skin under the cuffs was starting to become severely irritated, but Yoosung didn’t dare say anything about it, for fear of bringing punishment upon himself.  He was dressed in a tattered, but clean pair of jeans, but remained shirtless and barefoot since yesterday’s “training session”.  His bare back was a mess of multicolored stripes.

Yoosung ate in silence, not really tasting his food.  Despite everything, he did have somewhat of an appetite this morning.  He eagerly drank the glass of orange juice and the glass of water that sat next to his plate.   Unknown sat across the table from him, eyeing him intently as he finished his breakfast.

“I wonder what we should do today?” Unknown casually wondered as he continued to watch Yoosung eat.  Yoosung looked up at him, fear flashing in his eyes, his appetite suddenly vanished. 

“Yoosung, what do _you_ think we should do?”  The question caught Yoosung off guard.  It was the first time Unknown had called him by his name. He looked questioningly at Unknown, unsure of how to respond.  He never was very good at addressing loaded questions. 

“Wh…what do you w-want to do?”  He asked Unknown, his voice wavering as he fearfully considered what horrible things might serve as an answer to that question.

“Well, as my pet-in-training, I think you are beginning to understand now the nature of our relationship—that I am your  _Master_ , and you exist only for my pleasure.  That is your only purpose, and if you outlive your usefulness in fulfilling that purpose, you will be replaced… _with Eleanora_.  And your last moments will be spent watching  _her_ training.  _Do you understand all of this?”_

“Yes,” Yoosung’s face was turned down, tears once again burning his face as he was forced to imagine the horrible thought that was just presented to him.

“Yes, what?” Unknown’s voice was suddenly loud and sharp.  Yoosung flinched.

“Yes, sir,” His voice was flat, almost a whisper.

“Yes… _who_?   What did I _just_ tell you, dumbass?” Unknown demanded impatiently, a hint of anger seeping from his words.

“…Yes…M-Master.”  Yoosung stammered fearfully, as he tried ineffectively to stifle his trembling.

“That’s better.  You’re a bit… _slow_ , aren’t you?  I could have sworn that I saw in your records that you used to be a model student in high school.  President of student council and top graduate of your class.  You even got into SKY University, which is no small feat.  Guess your brain is rotted from playing video games...what a waste of potential."  Unknown clucked his teeth disapprovingly.  "Oh, well…It looks like you need some more training to fully know your place, and to understand and embrace who I am to you.” 

Yoosung felt a chill run through his veins, and shivered involuntarily.

Unknown laughed.  “My _God_ , you are _so_ cute.  I bet you hear that a lot.  Or, used to, anyway.  I think you’re even cuter when you’re scared, like you are right now.”  Yoosung glanced downward, his face flushed at the backhanded compliment.

“Yes, Master.” 

“Very good, my little cutie pie.  Maybe you're not that slow after all.”  Unknown flashed a smile that showed no real emotion, and stood up from his place at the table.  “Since you don’t seem to have any clue of what you want to do today, I’ll have to decide for us.  I think I have a few ideas.  You might even like them!”  He sounded giddy and innocent, almost like a kid asking his buddy next door to come out to play.

Untying Yoosung from his chair, he led him by the leash to the far wall of the room.  The wall had numerous iron loops bolted into the cold, gray stones, and it was two of these loops to which he fastened Yoosung’s wrist cuffs, so that his arms were fully extended to each side, and slightly over his head.  As he was pushed against the wall, his back—still extremely inflamed and swollen by the lashing he received two days ago, scraped painfully against the rocks, causing him to cry out.

“Oops, sorry,” Unknown snickered, not sounding very sorry at all, as he knelt down and fastened each of Yoosung’s ankle cuffs to a loop, leaving him firmly fixed, spread-eagle, to the stone wall. 

“Now, we’re going to play a little game.  And, my sweet pet, this game will be more fun if you don’t see what’s going on.  Let’s see, where did I put that leather mask? I can’t wait for you to try it on!” said Unknown, striding over to the cart and rummaging around in its compartments.  He pushed the cart over so that it sat near Yoosung, and fished out a black leather mask.  “Ah, here it is.  You’ll look amazing in this thing!”  He slid the mask over Yoosung’s head, and it covered his entire head, with only small holes over the areas under the nose and around the mouth.  Reaching around, he fastened the series of buckles that secured the mask in place. 

“Did you know that when a person is deprived of one of their senses, it makes the remaining senses much more perceptive?  For example, a blind person will have much more sensitive hearing, and will also be much more perceptive to touch.  I bet that lying, shithead traitor V knows a thing or two about that, but I think it will be fun to explore that concept for ourselves.  Don’t you?”

Yoosung stood in silence, trying to keep his breathing as controlled as possible so he wouldn’t feel like he was suffocating inside the heavy leather mask.

“I said, _DON’T YOU?”_   Unknown said, raising his voice on the last two words.  Yoosung flinched.

“Yes, Master!” he responded quickly through the leather.

“Oh, dear.  I believe that you do need some manners training.  It’s very rude to ignore questions when you’re asked.” 

“N-no, Master.  I...I have manners.  I’m sorry, I won’t mess up again, I promise. _Please_ …” Yoosung said pleadingly, his voice somewhat muffled by the mask.

Unknown was right—having one sense taken away does indeed sharpen the other senses—Yoosung heard the sound of Unknown’s pocket knife being flicked open.  The sound made Yoosung’s words die in his throat, and the blood to turn to ice in his veins.

Then... _fire_. 

The razor-sharp steel blade slid effortlessly into the delicate skin of his chest just below his collarbone, and slowly moved downward, slicing as it went.  Yoosung screamed involuntarily as he felt the cold steel carving into his skin, tearing through inch by painful inch _._

 _Oh, God…_ this was unbearable.

Still holding the blade into Yoosung’s skin with his dominant hand, he suddenly slammed his free hand, open-palmed, into Yoosung’s mouth and nose, effectively covering them and cutting off his air supply, which was already limited by the small holes in the mask.  His head jerked back against the collar, slamming the back of his skull into the stone wall with a painful crack.  He whimpered softly as his mind swirled in stunned shock from the blow.

Unknown held his hand tightly on Yoosung’s masked face, as if he was trying to grind his head into the stone wall.  He spoke slowly, taking the time to enjoy watching his prisoner struggling to breathe.  The knife remained buried in Yoosung’s flesh, but Unknown moved it ever so slightly as he spoke quietly and directly into Yoosung’s ear.  

“You WILL stop screaming like a fucking baby, or I swear to God, I will end you right now.  Then, I will do to HER exactly what I’ve done to you so far.  You are a grown-ass man, so act like it!”  Unknown growled.

“Have I made myself abundantly clear?” he sputtered, as he lifted the knife from the fresh, bleeding cut running about 6 inches long.

"Mhmm...mmm-hmm," Yoosung attempted to answer in the affirmative without making the slightest movement.  Satisfied, Unknown released his grip.  Yoosung gasped and coughed, gulping in as much air as the leather mask would let him, while his brain felt like it was throbbing in sync with his rapid heartbeat.  His mind twirled, and his grip on consciousness threatened to give way.

Once again, Yoosung felt the blade of the knife stroke his skin, but this time, it did not cut.  Again and again, Unknown deftly and delicately teased the skin of Yoosung’s chest, the insides of his outstretched arms, his stomach, his sides, and his neck with the blade.  These light strokes tickled and stung at the same time, almost feeling pleasant.  Each time, however, Yoosung’s breath caught in his throat as he feared the inevitable.  Then, as the blade is being softly drawn across his left side, Unknown pressed it suddenly into Yoosung’s tender flesh, cutting into him even deeper this time.

“Hrnghh...mmhhh...” Yoosung tried his best to stifle his broken, agonized reaction as the blade sliced through him.  His hands clenched into fists so tightly that he could feel his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms.  Tears stung his eyes behind the thick, hot mask. 

It was true; the deprivation of his sight by the mask did, indeed, increase the perception of his other senses.  He felt every hot, stinging inch of the blade, and could hear his skin ripping under the knife’s pressure.  He was keenly aware of the warm, sticky wetness as blood spilled onto his exposed skin, followed by a cooler sensation as the tiniest air currents in the room caressed the thick, heavy flow.  The metallic scent of his own blood assailed his nose through the holes in the leather.  

This “exercise” went on for nearly an hour—though it felt like much longer—dozens of excruciating slashes through his skin…some long, some short, some deep, some just breaking the surface.  He was cut on both arms, his neck, his chest, his sides, and his stomach. 

Once Unknown grew bored of his bloody game, he carefully and meticulously cleaned off of his knife, flicked it closed and put it away.  He casually walked over to the sink and washed Yoosung’s blood from his hands and arms, dried them with a towel, and returned to the blood-soaked mess that hung limply on the wall.  Yoosung had passed out at least ten minutes earlier, unable to continue the mental and physical burden of stifling his cries while enduring such extreme torment. 

“Pathetic, annoying weakling,” Unknown muttered under his breath.  He removed the leather mask, then surveyed his work, proudly displayed on the cellar wall. He found exquisite pleasure in spilling the blood of this helpless boy.  "Pathetic…but so beautiful," he sighed.

Casually strolling to a spigot on the wall, Unknown picked up a water hose curled nearby.  He attached one end of the hose to the wall spigot, and the other end to a pressure sprayer nozzle, designed to clean farm equipment.  Opening the spigot as far as it would go, he aimed the powerful blast of water, pumped directly from the deep, ice-cold groundwater well under the farm, onto Yoosung’s exposed, shredded skin.  It only took a minute or so for the barrage of water to remove all of the old blood that had crusted on Yoosung’s skin; however, the fresh blood from the knife slashes still flowed, tinting the water sheeting from his body a bright pink as it swirled to the room’s central French drain.  Still unconscious, Yoosung’s limp body only managed a small shudder in response to the icy assault.

After his “bath”, Unknown unfastened Yoosung’s cuffs from the wall, allowing him to slump to the wet, blood-streaked floor.  Hooking his arms under Yoosung’s, he pulled him into the cage.  He didn’t bother to restrain him inside the cage; he just left him lying on the floor, a bloody heap in a growing puddle of blood-stained water.  Yoosung’s breaths came shallow, fast, and erratic, punctuated with occasional soft whimpers and moans as his body involuntarily convulsed in shock from cold and pain. 

Retreating for the night, Unknown silently walked to the door, turned off the light, and left the room, the metal door clanging shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> I listened to a LOT of Depeche Mode while I was writing the dark stuff, so I'll just link some playlists:
> 
> Album--Violator--Depeche Mode https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLPwPdfsfcDCWasKgwEQ6vj6_p9aFdrfar
> 
> Album--Ultra--Depeche Mode https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLW5_8eogYFDNShk_YTsNpWgHtGuBwZ1wA


	5. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's now been three months since Yoosung went missing. Despite the immense efforts to find him, there have been frustratingly few clues found as to his whereabouts. 
> 
> Then, Eleanora gets a shocking phone call...
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 5: Contact**

Day 92—August 8th

* * *

 

2:20pm

 

Eleanora was in a hurry.  She had ventured out from her apartment for a quick trip to the store for some groceries.  She had put this annoying errand off for way too long, and now she was nearly out of food.  So focused on the search efforts for her sweet Yoosung, she didn’t like to shift her attention to anything else—even her own sustenance.  However, the gnawing and growling of her stomach had become enough of a distraction that she had finally decided that she needed to do something about it. 

She carried the paper bag tightly to her chest as she walked briskly down the sidewalk for the short couple of blocks between the store and the apartment.  She was thankful that there were hardly any people out and about—probably due to the oppressive, muggy heat of the day.

Her latest project, which consumed almost one hundred percent of her waking hours (and many of her sleeping hours—what few she had, anyway) was learning to hack, so that she could personally work to find and pursue potential leads.  She had obtained nearly a dozen books about various computer related topics, and studied hundreds of websites and tutorials to educate herself.  Then, she had her own notes from her close observation of Seven’s activities.  She was pretty sure that he had no idea how intently she studied his every keystroke, every click of the mouse.  She memorized everything with her nearly perfect photographic memory, later transferring everything she learned to a notebook with painstaking detail.  A growing stack of such notebooks, each full of meticulous documentation of her observations, sat on her desk next to her computer.

She had one, singular goal.  Everything she did, every word she spoke, every thought in her head were directed to that objective—to bring her beloved Yoosung home—alive and safe.  Tomorrow, it will have been exactly three months since his disappearance.  Three months since he and Seven ventured into Mint Eye headquarters, and only Seven came back.  Yoosung had chosen to stay behind, placing himself in terrible danger in order to allow Seven to escape, ensuring the success of their mission—to remove the immediate threat of danger to the members of the RFA, and particularly, to Eleanora herself. 

Everyone, including (and especially) Eleanora, had tried to dissuade him from going, but Yoosung had stubbornly insisted that he be a part of the efforts to keep safe the girl he loved.  Because he was there, the mission was a success.  But, at what cost?  Even though the immense efforts to find him were immediate and ongoing, he was gone without a trace.  His suspected captor, a shadowy individual who went by the title of “Unknown”, had taken Yoosung to a secret location shortly after his capture, and no trace of either of them were anywhere to be found.

In the months that have passed since that day, Eleanora has dedicated every ounce of her existence to finding her love and bringing him home, to the point of neglecting her own well-being.  The only thing that forced her to finally go out and buy some groceries was the dull headache that interfered with her ability to focus on her work.  It took her awhile to realize that the headache was due to hunger, and that she hadn’t eaten in nearly two days.  So, grudgingly, she headed out into the bright, hot, summer afternoon.  Since Yoosung’s disappearance, she had come to hate going out in public. 

It was difficult...exhausting...to try to act “normal”, like everything is just fine, when really, her world was shattered to the point that she could barely breathe at times.

Walking as fast as she could without breaking into a jog, she hurried along.  She was about halfway back to her apartment, when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. 

 _Ugh_ …She didn’t feel like talking to anyone.  It was probably Jaehee or Zen, wondering if she’s eaten today ( _I’m working on it, dammit…cut me some slack!_ Her brain irritably muttered at them). 

For half a second, she considered letting it go to voicemail and returning the call once she got back to the cool, quiet safety of her apartment...and after she'd had a chance to eat an apple or something so that she'd be able to honestly give them a satisfying answer.

Her pace slowed as another thought burst into her mind:  _What if it’s news about Yoosung?_

Stopping in the shade under a tree, she shifted the bag of groceries to her left hip, freeing up her right hand.  She then picked up her phone and looked at it.

Her phone read:  **_Incoming Call from ‘Unknown’_**.  

 _“Oh my God...”_ The pounding of her heart felt as if it were forcing every last ounce of air from her lungs; her mind swirled dizzyingly with each pulse. 

 _Could it possibly be…?_   Her shaking hands answered the call and lifted the phone to her ear.

“He-hello…?” her breath hitched in her throat, causing her voice to falter slightly.

“Why, hello, Eleanora!  How wonderful it is to get this chance to talk to you.  Do you know who this is?” The voice was not one she had heard before.  Even so, she recognized it instantly.  Every muscle in her body tensed, and powerful, mind-clearing rage began to slowly build, starting deep in her gut and proliferating to her extremities.

“I’m pretty sure I can guess,” she said, trying to filter out all emotion from her voice, and only halfway succeeding.  Without pausing, she cut to the chase.  _“Do you have Yoosung?”_   She felt a rush of anger, panic, fear, and hope—all at once—as his name crossed her lips.  The sensation was an odd cross between a punch in the gut and the feeling of a vertical drop on a roller coaster.

“As a matter of fact, I do.  He’s right here…”

The bag of groceries clattered to the ground, sending various food items rolling across the sidewalk completely unheeded.  Eleanora gripped the phone tightly with both hands and her voice rose, as she felt the blood drain from her face.

“Is he okay?  _You’d better not hurt him—not one single hair on his head!”_   She blurted out, immediately chastising herself to remain in control.  If she said the wrong thing, it could make things worse for Yoosung.

Unknown laughed hysterically before answering her plea, “A bit late for that, I’m afraid,” he giggled, then continued, “Don’t worry, honey.  I’m not treating him any worse than I’ve been treated.  Actually, we’re having a lot of fun!  Well, _I’m_ having fun, anyway…I don’t think he has the same idea of what’s fun,” he laughed again before continuing, “Did you know that he’s here _because of you?_   YOU are the reason he _chose_ to stay with me.  He wasn’t the one I wanted—I wanted that red headed freak you call Seven.  I’m not really into annoying, pathetic, whiny, crybaby weaklings like this kid.  Which reminds me of something I’ve been dying to ask you:  _What do you see in him, anyway?_   Sure, he’s cute, and he can be very sexy when he wants to be…” Unknown chuckled as his words trailed off, “…but…eh…on second thought, don’t even answer that question, because I guess it doesn’t really matter, since it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again.  Anyway, I called you because we’re playing a little game, and I thought I’d make it more interesting by letting you talk to him.  So, what do you say…wanna talk to your boyfriend?”

Eleanora felt oddly faint, but her mind remained focused.

“Yes, _of course_ I want to talk to him.” She said flatly, trying hard to cover her emotions.  She didn’t want to give him any ammunition to use against her…or the satisfaction of knowing he could affect her.

A short pause, some rustling noise, and then a weak, but familiar and infinitely precious voice came onto the line. 

“ _Eleanora_ …i-is it really you?” 

There was no question…that was definitely him—her heart’s treasure, her Yoosung.  He sounded so frail.  Eleanora shivered, suddenly feeling icy cold despite the heat of the summer day.

“ _Yoosung!_   Sweetie, are you okay?”  Feeling her legs turn to jelly, she leaned against the nearby tree for support. 

 _Do. Not. Cry._ She fiercely ordered herself.   _He needs you to be strong.  You have to be strong for him._

“Oh…I’m…I…uh…I’m okay.  Please don’t worry…about me…” he said faintly.  Eleanora heard a soft sniffle and what could have been a stifled sob.

“Of course I’m worried about you, baby!  There are so many people working hard to find you…”  A lump was rising in her throat, which she tried to swallow down.  She couldn’t let herself fall apart right now.  Her mind was racing, trying desperately to figure out a way to trace this call. 

 _Dammit, if only she was at the apartment, or at Seven’s place!_  

“I love you, Eleanora…” Yoosung’s voice was breaking as he began to cry, “I love you _so much_.” 

“I love you too, Yoosung…” A sudden, loud noise in the background was followed by a cry of pain. 

Eleanora’s heart stopped.

_“Yoosung!? Are you alright?”_

A long pause, during which she could hear very faint moans and sobs, caused Eleanora’s willpower to disintegrate, and she raised a clenched hand to her mouth.  She bit down on her balled-up fist as tears spilled onto her cheeks.

 _“Eleanora…”_ Yoosung’s sweet voice was tenuous, barely a wisp of breath.

“Yes, sweetheart…I’m here…”

He continued in a halting, trembling whisper, “ _Please…don’t come for me._   Don't.   _This is a horrible place, and he’s a dangerous person.  As long as I’m here…as long as he has me, you’ll be safe.  I don’t want you anywhere near him.  Please…please, let me go.  Move on with your life.  Just please…don’t forget me…"_

A loud sob broke his words. _"Remember that I love you…I’ll always love you…and it’s my honor…to protect you like this.  Let me do this for you…okay?”_

Another loud noise sounded in the background.  Yoosung cried out again, but markedly weaker this time. 

Eleanora wept.  She felt so helpless.

 _“Baby, no…”_ she pleaded, her voice faltering. 

 _“Don’t you dare drop my phone, you pathetic little bitch, or you’ll get it even worse!”_   Unknown’s voice could be heard shouting in the background. 

The noise carried over the call again, followed by another wail of pain from Yoosung.

Yoosung wept, _“I love you…so much…my sweet girl.”_    The words broke like shards of glass.  Just like Eleanora’s heart.

Eleanora now openly sobbed, as her back slid slowly down along the side of the tree until she was sitting on the ground at its base.  Summoning every particle of willpower in her being, Eleanora steadied her voice.  “Yoosung, sweetie, listen to me, okay?   _I. Will. Find. You._   I promise.  _I will find you  and I will bring you home_.  I don't care what I have to do.  Please, don’t give up!  I love you _so_ much, and I will not stop looking for you until you are right here by my side, where you belong.  Do you hear me?  I’m not going to give up on you!  Please…hold on, baby.  No matter what, if it takes me to the very ends of the earth, _I will find you!”_

“Eleanora…I’m so scared…I’m…I…he’s… _no, no, no…please!!!”_    His voice grew frantic, and Eleanora could hear maniacal laughing in the background.

Eleanora then heard a scream that eviscerated her heart, then a loud crunching sound followed by a click as the call went dead.

Sitting under the tree, her groceries scattered at her feet, Eleanora buried her face in her hands and wept.  She shivered violently, feeling chilled to the bone. 

The hot, summer sunshine, the sparse, puffy white clouds, the singing birds—they all seemed so foreign and unfamiliar after what had just happened.  Taking a moment to catch her breath and climb shakily to her feet, she gathered her things, and ran to the apartment as fast as she could. 

She needed to call Seven immediately.  He’d know what to do, and surely he could trace the call’s origin and triangulate Yoosung’s location from the call data.

 

* * *

 

2:57pm

 

“He called from a burner phone, Eleanora.  He used _several_ complex layers of security and encryption...my God...even _I’ve_ never seen anything quite like this, and that’s actually... _really..._ impressive.  Plus, he spoofed the number—the number he called from is fake.  The call’s not traceable.  I’m sorry, Eleanora.  He planned this out very, _very_ well to keep us from getting any useful information.  He's really good.  This should have been a risky move on his part, but he took zero chances.”  Seven sighed as he stared at the computer screen.  His face wore an expression that could have been interpreted as either frustration, bewilderment, or amazement.  Or a combination of the three.

“So…there’s no way you can figure out where they are?  _None at all?_ ” Eleanora asked forlornly.  Bitter disappointment sat in her stomach like a cold, heavy rock.

“No, there isn’t.  Not from this call.  This guy is an expert.  He covered his tracks so well that even I can’t trace him, and this is exactly the sort of thing I’m paid the big bucks to do.”  Seven ran his fingers through his mop of flame-red hair, and groaned in frustration.  Taking off his glasses and tossing them onto the desk, he pressed his hands to his face. 

He didn’t like the feeling that someone was able to get the better of him, but that paled in comparison to the punch to the guts he felt to have let Eleanora and Yoosung down— _again_. 

“I’m so sorry, Eleanora.  I know I’d give anything if I could find something… _anything_ …to work with here.  Believe me, I want to catch this guy as much as you do…for _multiple_ reasons…”

His expression became distant as he muttered under his breath, _“How the hell did he learn how to do this…?”_

Eleanora didn’t hear him; she was busy replaying every detail of the call in her mind, in hopes that some minute detail might jump out and solve everything.

Eleanora had called Seven from her personal phone immediately upon returning to her apartment.  She didn’t want to use her RFA phone until it could be analyzed.  Seven had dropped what he was doing and rushed over to pick her up, then they had both gone back to Seven’s place.  There, he was able to use all of his equipment to download and analyze all of the information on Eleanora’s RFA phone.  Eleanora was distraught to learn that there was no useful information that could be gleaned from the call. 

“He was hurt, Seven.  The bastard was hurting him while he was on the phone with me!  I could hear it!”  Eleanora sobbed as she sat on his sofa, replaying in her mind the awful sounds of Yoosung's screams and crying.  Seven sat next to her and put his arms around her, holding her tightly as she buried her face into his shoulder.  His face wore a grim expression. 

Even though she was actually a bit older than Seven, he had become like a big brother to Eleanora during this whole ordeal.  He felt responsible for the plight Yoosung was in, and felt that he owed it to him to watch over Eleanora in his absence.

 _“He sounded so frail, and afraid…”_ she faltered, with barely enough breath to form the words.

Seven gave Eleanora a gentle squeeze.  “Hey.  We are going to find him.”  Seven tried to sound confident, but even he was unsure if that was going to be possible.  “Listen to me.  I’ve worked with these types of people before.  That call was meant to serve two purposes.  First, it was to mess with Yoosung’s head.  The only thing we can do about that is to find him and get him out of there, which we’re doing all we can to accomplish.  The second purpose of the call was to rattle you and make you lose your focus and confidence.  You can’t let that happen, because that’s what he _wants_.  You have to channel what you’re feeling right now and allow it to sharpen your senses and your mind." 

“But...I’m feeling _scared_ …” Eleanora started, but was quickly interrupted.  Seven released her from his embrace, and turned to face her directly, placing both of his hands firmly on her shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

“But, that’s what he _wants,_ Eleanora.  For you, and for Yoosung, to be afraid.  Fear makes people easier to control, and that’s what this is all about… _control_.  Don’t let yourself be afraid.  Instead, it’s better to get angry.  Anger raises your adrenaline, which makes you stronger.  You have to be careful, because it can also make you do dumb things.  But, if you can be angry _and_ be rational, you will be unstoppable.  _That’s_ what Yoosung needs from us right now…for us to stay focused and not lose our minds.” 

Eleanora understood exactly what he was talking about, and knew he was right. 

Eleanora excused herself to the restroom, where she splashed cool water on her face and tried to pull herself together.  Looking in the mirror, she was shocked to see how pale and sickly she looked.  The redness of her nose and dark circles under her bloodshot eyes bore a stark contrast against her pale skin.  Rummaging through her purse for some face powder, she halfheartedly tried to make herself look at least somewhat human, rather than something that had just crawled out of the graveyard.

When she returned to Seven’s living room, he was on the phone with Jumin to arrange a meeting at the search headquarters where this new information could be shared for independent analysis.

“…alright, we’ll be there shortly.  Bye.”  After putting down his phone, he turned to Eleanora, “Ready to head over to headquarters?  I’ve got all of the call data on this thumb drive.  I’m taking a copy over there for all of Jumin’s hired eggheads to go over, in the extremely unlikely chance that they can find something that we didn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Speak to Me--Amy Lee https://youtu.be/lB8ZsjMhy5M
> 
> Somewhere--Within Temptation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwvAlM-FXdE
> 
> My Heart is Broken--Evanescence https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E0qIG-h4rIE


	6. Darker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell drags on for another month, and it's getting harder and harder to be brave, to be strong, and to keep hope alive.
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 6:  Darker**

Day 129—September 14th

* * *

 

1:03pm

 

The room was barely lit by what little autumnal sunlight filtered through the tiny window, high up in the wall, covered on the outside by rusted, iron bars and thick, green grass and fallen leaves.  It had to have been at least late morning—if not early afternoon, judging by where the shadows fell onto the cold, concrete flooring of the stone cellar.  It had been raining for well over a week, so the sunshine seemed unusual.  It was also unusual that Master had not yet made his appearance for the day.  He had, thankfully, left a jug of water and a small box of food, a kindness he had not demonstrated the last time he failed to show up.

On _that_ particular occasion—was it a month ago?  Two months?  Two weeks?  Yoosung had long lost the ability to mark the days; time was not a relevant concept to him anymore—Master’s absence was due to a trip down from the mountains and into the city to get more supplies.  He had returned late in the evening, several hours after the sun had set.  That was the day he brought Yoosung some new clothes, since all of his previous clothing had been ruined by being ripped, shredded, or stained with his blood and bodily fluids.  He had already been through several outfits—various sorts of costumes selected by Master for his various sick fantasies and role playing games.  None of them lasted more than a few days before being damaged beyond usefulness. 

For a few days a while back, he had been forced to remain naked in his cell, and for the daily “activities” with Master.  He got somewhat used to it, but never stopped blushing with shame or trying to cover himself whenever Master came around.  Master found this habit quite endearing. 

“My shy pet…if only he were as innocent as he tries to act” he giggled as he sat across the room, eyeing his prisoner and contemplating what sort of mental or physical pain he should inflict upon Yoosung that particular day.

Master took great joy in dressing up his pet, in whatever theme he felt like exploring.  There had been various types of professional uniforms, dress suits, ladies’ clothing, costumes, even school uniforms meant for children.  Anything that served to satisfy some twisted desire, whim, roleplaying fantasy, or simply to humiliate Yoosung—was fair game. 

The 21 year old blonde college student sat in the corner of what had been his “home” for the past three months—a 6-foot square cell in the middle of a large, concrete and stone basement under an old abandoned farm in an extremely remote area high in the mountains—many miles from civilization.  He had his knees pulled to his chest, his arms folded and laying across them, and his head resting on his arms.  He had moved little during the day, which dragged on as if each minute was an eternity. 

He didn’t know what was worse—the time he spent with Master, or the seemingly endless hours of nothing…well, not nothing; he had his own thoughts:  of worry, of dread, of pain, of memories, of _her_ …

 _Eleanora_. His sweet Eleanora.

She was never far from his mind.  He didn’t even know what she looked like, but it didn’t matter.  His heart recognized her.  He chose to be in this awful place, so that she would be safe.  Knowing that he could protect her like this, gave him all the strength he needed to endure whatever Master inflicted upon him.

Though, it was still hard.

 _God, it was so hard_. 

Hard to be brave. 

Hard to hold on to his own identity. 

Hard to remember who he was, and the life he had outside of this little room.

Hard to stay sane. 

The thought of Eleanora held him together.  He had no image of her to picture in his mind—just the _idea_ of her, the sound of her voice, the words she spoke and typed in the chatrooms, the way she always understood him, loved him just as he was, and the way she made him feel _so cherished_.  Even if he would never get to see her...hold her in his arms...kiss her lips; even if his life were to end before he ever felt the warmth of the sun on his face again…he would be forever grateful just for the chance to experience the miracle of falling in love with such a rare and beautiful soul—and the even bigger miracle of earning her love in return.  

 

* * *

 

2:58pm

 

Yoosung’s thoughts scattered like a flock of birds as he heard the faint sound of footsteps, followed by the loud bang of the metal door. 

“Hello, my pet.  Did you miss me?”  Master practically sang as he sailed across the room, carrying a large box.  He was apparently in a very good mood today.

“I just got back from a supply run, and guess what?  I got you something special!”  He sat the box down on the table, opened it, and proceeded to fish around its contents.  He pulled out a parcel wrapped in white paper.  Opening the door to Yoosung’s cage, he tossed the package at him. 

Yoosung picked up the package that had slid to a halt at his feet.  His previous experience suggested that it was a new “outfit” for him to wear.  A faint warmth began to spread across his face.  _I wonder what it’ll be this time?_ He thought wearily. 

“Go on, open your present.  Don’t be rude, or I’ll have to punish you.”  Master chastised.

Sighing quietly and closing his eyes, Yoosung did as he was told.  Inside the parcel was a suit—a pair of black pants, a white shirt, a jacket, and a tie.  _Formal wear again, huh?_  

“Put that on, and be ready for me when I get back in 10 minutes,” Master instructed in a low voice.  Yoosung shuddered when he heard this voice—it usually meant that he could expect to be “servicing” Master in an intimate manner today.

The door slammed shut, and Master was gone.  Taking a deep breath, Yoosung struggled to his feet.  The low ceiling in his cage forced him to stoop over uncomfortably to avoid hitting his head on it.  Slowly, he slid the tattered jeans to the floor and stepped out of them.  Standing in his boxer shorts, he removed the clothing items from their package and dressed himself.  He noticed that these clothing items, like all of the others he had been given, were of superb quality, and were undoubtedly very expensive.  This was puzzling because the clothing inevitably became ruined within days, sometimes even hours, depending upon what sort of activities would follow.

Soon, Yoosung was dressed in the suit that Master had given him.  It fit perfectly.  Sinking back down to the ground, he carefully sat next to the bars of his cage, instinctively trying to avoid dirtying or damaging his clothes.  Only Master was allowed to do that.

Despite being in this hell for a while now, and being relatively accustomed to the general routine, Yoosung trembled as he awaited Master’s return to the cellar.  He focused on the little window again, and allowed himself to mentally escape the rusted bars into the vivid blue sky.  Knowing that his Eleanora was out there somewhere, under the same sky, was enough of a distraction to calm his frantic heartbeat.

Then, he heard footsteps.  They were a bit more rapid this time—the footfalls of someone who was anxious to get to where he was going.

The door clanged shut as Master breezed his way in.

“Alright, on your feet.  Let me see you,” he ordered.

Yoosung stood up once again, his joints protesting painfully as he leaned over to avoid the bars above his head.

Master unlocked the door and beckoned for Yoosung to come out.  Trepidation slowed his steps as he obeyed.  Once outside the cage, he stood up straight.  Master eyed him like a piece of meat, then smiled broadly.

“Look at you!  A perfect fit.  Very sexy, indeed!”  He giggled excitedly.  “You look like a beautifully wrapped present.  One that I can’t wait to unwrap!”

Master placed his hands on Yoosung’s shoulders, and spun him around.  Grabbing each of his wrists, he clipped the leather cuffs together, binding his hands behind his back. 

“Don’t.  Move.”  Master said darkly as he stood behind Yoosung.  Slowly, he walked around to face the trembling boy.  Reaching for Yoosung’s neck, Master carefully adjusted the collar of his jacket, then his tie, adjusting his leather collar above them.  Surveying his work, he sighed longingly.

“You always clean up so nicely.  I didn’t fully realize it until now, but you really are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Yoosung felt his face flush, and looked down blankly.  Master placed his hand just under Yoosung’s chin and lifted his face back up to face his.  Suddenly, he threw his other hand behind Yoosung’s head and pulled him in for a rough kiss.  He always felt nauseous when Master kissed him, but he learned early on that it was wise to accept each one.  He obediently opened his mouth when he felt Master’s warm tongue seeking access.  Scrunching his eyes shut, he awkwardly returned the kiss.  No matter how many times Master kissed him, it never felt natural.

Master grabbed Yoosung’s hair and roughly jerked his head back, exposing the soft skin of his neck.  Pulling his mouth away from Yoosung’s with a loud, sloppy sounding _pop_ , his lips moved downward to the neck.  Despite the fact that Yoosung was repulsed by what Master was doing, he couldn’t stop a sharp gasp from escaping from deep in his throat as the sensitive skin of his neck registered each uninvited sensation.

Yoosung continued to stand perfectly still as Master slowly moved back behind him.  He felt Master’s hands move slowly up his back, his fingers applying just enough pressure to bring a soft moan of pain from Yoosung as they passed over the more recent bruises marking his flesh just under the layers of expensive fabric.  Hands finally arrived at Yoosung’s shoulders, where they gripped firmly and pressed down hard.  Suddenly, Master brought his knee up and slammed it into the backs of Yoosung’s legs, causing them to buckle under him.  Yelping in surprise and pain, Yoosung fell to his knees.  Master pulled a length of rope from the rack behind him and laced it through the rings on the cuffs that held Yoosung’s hands behind his back.  The other end of the rope was pulled tightly and attached to the wall.  He then took a thick leather leash and attached it to the collar around Yoosung’s neck.  The other end of that was fastened to a heavy weight on the floor, forcing Yoosung to bend over slightly, with his arms pulled tightly and painfully behind him. 

Master bent down slightly, so that his face was level with Yoosung’s.  “I’m going to fuck that gorgeous little mouth again, my beautiful pet,” he sneered at Yoosung. 

“Please, don’t.  I-I’m feeling sick…”  Yoosung knew it was no use, but he still tried to talk to Master—in the hopes of reaching some kind of humanity in this crazed, broken person.

“I’ve told you before, _I don’t fucking care how you feel._   You’re mine, and I’ll use you however I please,” Master said, his voice laced with impatience as he walked around to face Yoosung.  “Look up at me when I'm addressing you, pet,” he commanded.

Craning his neck to lift his head against the pull of the leash, he saw Master’s fingers deftly unfastening his pants and dropping them to the floor.  His cock sprang free, bobbing just a few inches from Yoosung’s face.

“You know what to do…”  Master urged.  Closing his eyes tightly, Yoosung opened his mouth obediently.  Grabbing handfuls of Yoosung’s blond hair, he began thrusting.

The room fell quiet, except for the occasional gurgle from Yoosung’s throat as he tried to avoid triggering his gag reflex, and Master’s panting and quiet moans.  Yoosung’s back strained as his neck was held downward by the collar; his shoulders and arms were pulled excruciatingly as his wrists were tied behind him.  His hands felt tingly and slightly numb as he tried in vain to move and twist them into a more comfortable position.  For all his effort, it only made matters worse as his struggles only caused the thick leather cuffs of his restraints dig deeper into the tender, sore flesh of his wrists.

Soon, Master neared his finish.  He pulled out from Yoosung’s mouth just as he began to cum, groaning loudly as thick, white fluid slowly trickled down Yoosung’s nose, cheek and lips.

“Lick your lips.”  He commanded.

Yoosung held his mouth and eyes tightly closed.  Trying desperately to control his urge to vomit, he trembled hesitantly.

“I SAID, LICK THEM.”  Master raised his voice.  Yoosung froze in fear, terrified of what he knew would happen if he threw up on Master again.  The last time it happened, he was beaten so badly he could hardly move for days afterward.

Sighing loudly and impatiently, Master took his thumb, rubbed it across Yoosung’s face, gathering up as much of his own semen as he could, then forcefully inserted the sperm-covered digit into Yoosung’s mouth.

“Suck it, and then swallow.”

Yoosung did as he was told, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked Master’s thumb.  The salty fluid swirled around his mouth.  Fighting the nausea with all his might, Yoosung managed to swallow the warm liquid.

Removing the thumb from Yoosung’s mouth, he grabbed his chin and pulled it upward until he was looking him in the eye.

After a moment of staring at him expectantly, he growled at Yoosung, “I just gave you a gift, boy, and you aren’t giving me the polite response.  I thought I taught you better than that.” 

“What should you have said?”  He said, his voice softening condescendingly, like a teacher speaking to a small, errant child.

“Th-thank you, M-master…” Yoosung stuttered.  It was a small mistake, just a simple oversight, but Yoosung knew he was in big trouble.

“Very good,” he said patronizingly, “but I’m afraid it’s too late now.  You’ve already shown me that you need to be disciplined.  Now, how should I punish you so you won’t forget your manners again?” 

After a few minutes of thought, his face lit up.  Walking across the room to the equipment cart, he wheeled it over to where Yoosung was still bound in the unforgiving strappado position.  Opening a drawer, he pulled out an assortment of wires, each with a tiny metal alligator clip attached to one end.  Kneeling down, he ran his fingers down Yoosung’s chest, finding the buttons to his white shirt.  Starting near the middle, he unfastened buttons up to the top of the shirt, then loosened the tie.  Slipping his fingers inside the shirt, he slowly spread the shirt open, exposing Yoosung’s pale skin.  He then clipped the wires into Yoosung’s flesh, causing him to wince as he gasped through his clenched teeth.  The other ends of the wires were attached to a single, larger wire that led to a small, black, plastic device—shaped like a flat cylinder, with a small clear window in the center.

“This little box is a motion-activated switch—of my own design, I might add,” he said proudly, as he held it out for Yoosung to see.  He slowly rotated it back and forth as he continued to explain.  “It’s quite elegant in its simplicity.  Do you see the little silver dot rolling around inside the clear window as I move it?  That’s a drop of liquid mercury, which is a conductive metal.  When it tilts too far in any direction, the mercury will move to one side or another.  When that happens, the mercury touches the contacts at either end, causing the electrical circuit to close, and the switch to activate.”

He then attached the device to the side of Yoosung’s head with a piece of elastic.  He adjusted it so that Yoosung would have to hold his head up straight to keep the switch from activating.  The wires clipped to his skin were then attached to one side of the switch, and a single, larger cable was attached to the other end.  That wire was then ran to the electrical box, and plugged in. 

“Now, let’s see if this works…”  Master walked over to Yoosung, and slapped him across the face.  The force threw Yoosung’s head to the side, and the switch was triggered.  Waves of electricity surged through his body, making his muscles contract all at once, feeling like they would burst into flames.  A tense shriek tried to force its way out from his clenched jaw.  As difficult as it was to force his muscles to cooperate, he willed his head to move back into its original position, causing the circuit to break, ending the flow of electricity through his body.  His vision blurred, his mind spun, and his body felt on the verge of collapse.  Breathing in short, jagged gasps, he willed himself to stop trembling, desperate to avoid setting off the switch again.

“You will stay in this position until I decide it’s time for you to move.  You will not sleep, you will not eat, you will not do anything—ANYTHING—until I feel that you have learned your lesson.  Any movement will result in an instant punishment, as you have just demonstrated.”

With that, Master strolled across the room to a small bookshelf, and removed a book.  He then sat at the table and began to read, occasionally glancing up at his prisoner.  Yoosung sat perfectly still on his knees, staring straight ahead—but occasionally cutting his violet eyes over to glance at Master without turning his head.  The rough concrete of the floor seemed to grind right through the fabric of his pants into his knees, and the position he was sitting in was reducing blood flow to his feet, which were quickly going numb. 

 

* * *

 

9:08pm

 

The next few hours passed in silence.  Master sat across the room at the table, occasionally turning pages and glancing up at the motionless boy sitting like a statue, his eyes staring straight ahead.  Yoosung was focusing all of his energy on remaining still, despite the fact that his arms felt like overcooked noodles, his legs were cold and numb, and his face itched from the deposit of semen that had been left there to dry into an uncomfortable crusty residue.  He felt drowsy, but knew if he let his head drop in one direction or another, he would be shocked again.  Once again, he distracted his mind with thoughts of Eleanora.  He tried to remember the sound of her voice, the way she could always make him smile. 

The further he drifted into his daydream, the less he concentrated on holding still.  As his eyelids slowly sank, so too did his head.  The mercury drop slowly rolled forward until it met the contacts of the switch.

Suddenly, fire ripped through Yoosung’s body, causing him to jolt forward against his restraints.  Once again, Yoosung fought to get back into position to make the excruciating, burning pain stop.  His breaths were fast and ragged, and he struggled to blink back tears as he became aware of Master’s amused gaze on him.

“Are you getting sleepy over there?  I know I am.”  Master gave a long, exaggerated yawn before continuing.  “In fact, I think I’m about ready to go to bed.  Doesn’t that sound like a good idea?”

Yoosung, who had closed his eyes, opened them and glanced at Master without turning his head.

“Yes, Master,” he said quietly, trying to avoid triggering the switch, and hoping that was the answer Master wanted to hear.

Master stood up and strolled casually over to his captive pet.  Kneeling down in front of him, he leaned in, and planted a quick, but sensual kiss on Yoosung’s lips, which still tasted faintly like his own ejaculate.

“Then, good night, my beautiful pet.  Sleep well!”  He whispered with a chuckle.  Yoosung’s eyes widened in horror as he realized that he was going to leave him in this painful predicament for the whole night.

 

* * *

 

Day 130—September 15th

2:42am

 

A heavy rain beat down upon the roof of the car, creating a nearly deafening roar that drowned out the music blaring on the radio.  Although it was against her better judgement to go for a drive…in the dark…and in this weather.  It was the height of typhoon season, and there had been warnings on the radio and TV all day about the potential for heavy rain and flooding.  Still, Eleanora couldn’t sleep…again.  Sleepless nights were a common occurrence in the months since Yoosung’s disappearance.  She had tried everything—meditation, prayers, exercise, self-hypnosis, even sleeping pills.  Sometimes the remedies worked, and sometimes they didn’t. When she did sleep, the dreams that invaded her mind were often worse than the dull ache and mental fog of staying awake.  One thing that she did find soothing was driving aimlessly around on the city highways, blasting her favorite music.  This cleared her mind, and allowed her to collect the thoughts that often became an overwhelming deluge in her consciousness.  Not unlike the rain that now pounded the pavement and spattered her windshield, refracting the city lights into a thousand colorful jewels carelessly strewn about.

She had been driving for close to an hour when the worsening weather finally convinced her to point the car toward her apartment.  On the way, she stopped by an all-night shop and picked up a snack.  Once back in the apartment, she once again laid down and tried to sleep.  Her friends, especially Jaehee, had been urging her to try to get enough sleep, and warned her of the possible health hazards of not sleeping enough.  She poured herself a small glass of red wine--a gift from Jaehee--and sipped it as she propped a book on her knees to read by the light of her bedside lamp.

Soon, by some miracle, Eleanora finally began to feel drowsy.  Setting the book down and switching off the light, she drifted off to sleep.

After what seemed like a few minutes of blissful darkness, she heard his voice—quietly, but clearly. 

 _“Eleanora…”_   She struggled to see him, but all she could see was complete darkness.  Her body had no sensation—she was paralyzed…floating in a cloud of nothingness.

 _“I’ll make sure to protect you.”_ The words were barely a whisper.  He sounded so weak, and so tired.

_“If I have to sacrifice myself to protect you… I don’t care about my life.”_

_“But…I want to see you face to face.”_

_“I’m scared that this role playing game will end once he’s sick of it.”_

_“I don’t know what I’ll look like when I meet my end.”_

_“All I know about you is warmth.  But no face…”_

_“Still, Eleanora…  I’m so glad I could protect you with my love.”_

_“This is the best moment of my life.”_

Eleanora woke up as the words faded.

It was a dream… _or was it?_

_What had just happened?_

She felt an odd warmth around her—as if he had actually been in her presence as his words spoke directly into her heart.

Her mouth tried to form his name, but her voice was smothered in her throat by anguished sobs.

She sat up from her bed, suddenly wide awake, buried her face in her hands, and wept.  Although she had no proof, she knew beyond a doubt that she had truly heard him speak to her just now….every bit as certain as she was for the phone call she received last month. 

“Hold on, baby…I’m trying…please… _please_ , don’t give up…” She sobbed, hoping he could hear her.

Many miles away, Yoosung was also weeping.  Unable to move, unable to lower or lift his head; every muscle in his exhausted body cried out in burning agony.  He couldn’t look at the little window—his beacon of hope.  He couldn’t close his eyes lest he fall asleep.  All he could do was think of Eleanora, and talk to her.  Somehow, he felt that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to hear him…

He suddenly felt warmth, and love…as if Eleanora was right there with him. 

 _I_ _’m dreaming,_ he thought.

… _but I can’t sleep…or else…_

A shadowy calmness slowly crept in, quietly lulling his senses into a dim haze. 

Suddenly, he felt himself plunging uncontrollably into a billion points of blistering-hot light, blinding him and piercing him everywhere at once.  With neither the strength, nor the command over his body to move, and the blackness of oblivion rapidly circling him, he used his last ounce of consciousness to think of his angel one final time. 

Then, he let go.

 _Surely, this was it..._ the end…the blessed, blissful end of his suffering.

Then…darkness…

_Nothingness…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Blue Dress--Depeche Mode (Blue December Mix) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBy3e6cs6R0 
> 
> Your Star--Evanescence https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrR5IvUfWeQ&t=28s
> 
> Tears of an Angel--Amy Guess https://youtu.be/lyHlkMZ70i4


	7. Broken Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a horrific night of predicament bondage, an exhausted, weak and sore Yoosung accidentally breaks a glass bottle, and he is punished for his clumsiness.
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 7:  Broken Glass**

Day 131—September 16th

* * *

 

9:24am

 

Pain…

Blinding light…

Yoosung slowly opened his eyes as awareness came to him.  He was curled into a fetal position on the concrete floor of the cage.  Every inch of him hurt, every muscle screamed in protest, and his eyes burned as they adjusted to the sunlight spilling directly onto his face from the tiny window high on the wall across the room.  Master was nowhere to be seen, and there was no sign that he had yet visited the underground prison this morning.  He couldn’t remember how he got back into the cage; all he could remember is alternating sensations of crushing fatigue and fiery jolts of electricity consuming his body.  After nearly 13 hours locked in punishing predicament bondage, he had finally passed out from a combination of exhaustion, pain, and shock.

A short time after that, in the wee hours of the morning when Master had arrived to check on Yoosung, he found him fainted, his body twitching involuntarily as he was wracked mercilessly by the searing voltage surging through him.  Disconnecting the electricity, he unfastened Yoosung’s wrists and feet, then dragged the unconscious boy into his cell, leaving him crumpled on the floor in the center of his enclosure.  He then left for the rest of the night.

It was now well into the morning and, once again, Master was nowhere to be found.  Yoosung struggled against his stiff, aching muscles to crawl to the jug of water left for him at the corner of the cage.  Barely strong enough to lift it, he brought it to his dry, cracked and bleeding lips, and took several sips of the cool liquid, which faintly tasted of rust and stale mud. 

As he lowered the bottle to the ground, the strength of his arms failed.  The jug fell, shattering as it struck the concrete, spraying shards of glass in every direction.  Yoosung attempted to catch the ill-fated jug, but was too slow in his reaction time, his hands landing directly into the field of broken glass that now littered the floor.  Fire singed his palms as the shards lacerated his skin.  Yoosung cried out and sat up, surveying his bloodied hands as tears gathered in his eyes.  He then focused his eyes beyond his hands, to the large puddle of his drinking water, slowly seeping into the concrete. 

Knowing that it could be hours (or days) before Master returned, and that, even then, he’d be at the mercy of Master’s temperament _du jour_ as to whether or not he’d be inclined to let him have more…and _oh, God—what will he say about the broken bottle?_  Yoosung felt panicked at the notion that he will probably be punished for breaking one of Master’s glass bottles. 

Slumping back against the wall of the cage, Yoosung clasped his arms together to cushion the cuts on his hands, and proceeded to cry in despair.

 

* * *

 

12:20pm

 

The slam of the metal door announced Master’s arrival.  Yoosung startled awake from a fitful nap against the bars of his cage. 

Master approached, the door of the cage, but stopped suddenly as he noticed the glass scattered across the floor.

“What the fuck happened here?” He demanded.

Yoosung trembled as he gazed at Master fearfully.

“Well, answer me, boy,” he growled.

“I d-dropped it.  I-I’m sorry, Master,” Yoosung said softly, his voice barely escaping from his throat.

“You _WHAT_?”  Master sputtered, “Is that why your hands are bloody?”  Yoosung nodded, his eyes firmly locked on the ground.

“And look at your new outfit!  _There are bloodstains all over it!”_  

Without another word, Master threw open the door of the cage, marched inside, and grabbed Yoosung by his leash.  He then pulled Yoosung out of the cage, causing him to stumble over the broken glass.  As the shards sliced into his feet, Yoosung bit his lip to avoid crying out.  Once outside of the cage, Master fastened Yoosung’s hands together in front of him. 

“These cuts need to be cleaned.  I can’t believe that this is how you act when someone does you a kindness.  You’ve broken one of my glass bottles, made a mess on the floor of your enclosure, wasted perfectly good water, ruined your new clothes, and damaged my property by slicing up your hands and feet,” Master lectured.  “Once I’ve gotten you cleaned up, you will be punished,” he concluded darkly.  Yoosung had hoped for a better outcome, but was not surprised to learn that he was going to pay dearly for his clumsiness.

Master led Yoosung over to the sink.  “Put your hands out over the basin,” Master ordered.  Reaching up to a nearby cabinet, he pulled out a small bottle of clear liquid.  He removed the cap, and proceeded to pour the contents over Yoosung’s hands.  The unmistakable scent of alcohol filled the air, as the antiseptic fluid flowed over the open cuts.  The clear substance took on a pink tint as it flowed down the drain.

“Ahhhhhh….”  Yoosung clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as the intensely stinging liquid disinfected the cuts.  Master then grabbed a chair from the table and, placing it behind Yoosung, proceeded to shove him down into it.

“Lift your feet,” he commanded.  Yoosung obeyed, holding his breath in an attempt to prepare for what was coming.  Once again, cold fluid was poured over his skin, the cool sensation contrasted by the intense burn of the alcohol on open cuts. 

“Mrrmmh…” Yoosung whimpered as he bit down hard on his bottom lip. The metallic taste of blood blossomed on his tongue. 

“ _Shut up,_ dumbass.  You did this to yourself,” Master said coldly.

Once the cuts were cleaned on Yoosung’s hands and feet, Master put him back into his cage.  Placing a bucket outside the bars, he said, “You are to pick up each and every piece of glass, and drop it into this bucket.  Once your area is cleaned up, you’ll get fed.  I’m timing you—the longer you ake to clean up your mess, the longer your punishment will be.”

Yoosung scrambled to pick up the glass, carefully but quickly dropping small stacks of the shards through the bars and into the bucket.  Meanwhile, Master stood at the stove, heating up a small pot of chicken soup. 

Once the clean-up job was finished, Master led Yoosung to the table and set a bowl of soup in front of him, which was quickly devoured by the hungry boy.

“Thank you, Master,” Yoosung said as he finished his meal.

Master then led Yoosung across the room to the stone wall, shoving his back against the stone.  He then took each of his wrist cuffs and fastened them to metal loops embedded in the wall, so that his arms were outstretched to each side.  His ankles were then fastened together. 

“Let’s see…it took you six minutes to clean up the glass,” Master said as he was rummaging through a drawer by the stove.  “Ah, here it is…”  He pulled out a device that consisted of a plastic handle with an electric cord on one end, and a thick metal coil on the other end.  The handle was hooked so that it could be hung onto the lip of a pot of water, allowing the metal coil to be submerged.  The coil would then heat the water, and it was capable of bringing a gallon of water to boiling within just a few minutes.

Master examined the device carefully.  “This thing is pretty old, but it still works just fine.  I wonder what kind of fun we can have with it?” He giggled as he caught Yoosung squirming fearfully against the wall.  Master plugged the device into an extension cord from the electrical box.  In a matter of seconds, the metal coil had turned a faint glowing red.  Master slowly approached the trembling, terrified boy, and held the glowing metal up mere inches from his face. 

“Now, I want you to apologize for breaking my glass bottle.”

“I’m s-s-sorry, Master.  I’ll never do it again….p-please…”  Yoosung closed his eyes as tears spilled onto his cheeks.

“Please?  Please what?” Master asked impatiently.  The coil glowed brighter, and Yoosung could smell the faint burning scent of the heated element.

“P-please, don’t d-do this…”  Yoosung’s voice cracked into a sob.

“Shut up.  You are so pathetic.  Man up and take your punishment.”

Without another word, the red-hot coil was pressed into Yoosung’s bare skin near the center of his chest. 

Yoosung screamed as he felt his skin sizzle under the hot metal.  Master withdrew it almost immediately, but it only took a second to leave a round, angry red burn.

“I want you to count them.  That was number one.  Say it…”  Master commanded.

Through sobs, Yoosung responded, “One…”

The next kiss from the immersion-heater-turned-branding-iron came a few inches below Yoosung’s ribs on his right side.  Another scream echoed through the cellar.  
“ _Aahh_ …T-two…”

Master then touched the hot metal to Yoosung’s left side, leaving it a bit longer this time, ripping a jagged shriek from the boy.

Head lowered and struggling to catch his breath, Yoosung whimpered, “three…”

Searing fire then branded his right shoulder.  Yoosung tried to scream, but his voice gave out.

“F-f-fo-four,” his voice was barely a whisper, as his head hung limply in front of him.

The next burn was on his left arm, between his shoulder and elbow.  This time, only a soft moan issued from Yoosung’s throat.

After a few seconds of waiting for Yoosung to speak, he leaned in close and said softly, “Well? Did you lose count?  If you did, we’ll have to start over.”

 _“F...f...five…”_ Yoosung’s trembling lips barely formed the word.  Behind long, scraggly strands of faded blond hair with brown roots, his face was contorted in a silent scream. 

The sickening scent of burning flesh was becoming apparent in the room as the hot metal made contact with the left side of Yoosung’s ribcage.

Another moan, as his body shuddered.  His legs gave out underneath him, and he slumped forward, his arms pulling backward against their restraints and his head rolling forward onto his chest.

 _“S-si…si..s-six…”_ the tenuous whisper was barely audible from underneath the messy mop of hair that now completely obscured his face.

Master unplugged the device and stepped back to admire his handiwork.  His pet was hanging limply against his wrist cuffs, as six circular welts were slowly swelling up into puffy, pale pink blisters.  Rapid, shallow breaths, punctuated by an occasional soft moan, were the only sounds that broke the silence in the room.  Yoosung had mustered all of his willpower to stay awake in spite of the horrific pain, and was perilously close to blacking out.  Summoning the last of his strength to get himself upright again, he was somehow able to lift his head enough to get a glance at Master, to see if he could tell what he intended to do next.  Silently, Yoosung prayed that he was satisfied with the suffering he had inflicted for today.

“Wow, that worked even better than I expected,” Master observed as he examined the translucent blister growing from the angry, deep-red mark on Yoosung’s arm.  “Hmm…I bet this will serve as a very effective reminder to be careful with other people’s property from now on.”  He took a step closer, so that he was directly facing Yoosung.  Hooking his fingers under Yoosung’s chin, he lifted his head and gazed into his flushed, tearstained face as pale violet eyes stared blankly back at him.

“You have no idea how your tortured, broken body and spirit excites me.  So sexy, so beautiful.”  He leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on Yoosung’s quivering lips.

“I’ll be back soon, my pet.  Don’t go anywhere!”  He chuckled as he strode out the door, which slammed shut behind him. 

Yoosung shifted as much as his uncomfortable restraints would allow, but was unable to find a way to relieve the strain on his arms.  The six burn marks seared into his flesh throbbed with excruciating intensity as blisters formed; the pain was almost as vivid as when he felt the hot metal sizzling into his skin. 

Hanging his head once again, Yoosung finally gave in and allowed himself to cry.  His soul felt broken, crushed into bits—but, if it meant Eleanora was safe, he will gladly live out what remained of his life enduring whatever Master decided to do to him.  Even if it meant he would never get to see the face of the woman he loved more than life itself.  He was also glad that she’d never have to see him in this pitiful state. 

Besides, he wanted her to remember him the way he was.  A tear slid down his face as he realized that even he could barely remember the way he was before his life effectively ended…the day he entered this hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No songs for this chapter, sorry!


	8. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master has a theory about Yoosung, based upon his observations over the past several months. He devises an evil experiment to test his idea.
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 8:  Possession**

Day 146—October 1st 

* * *

 

7:26pm

 

A heavy rain was falling outside, creating a constant, dull roar that was amplified by the echoing walls of the cellar.  Occasionally, a clap of thunder shook the walls, rattling the little window to the point that it seemed like it would crack under the vibration. 

Yoosung sat huddled in his cell.  It wasn’t particularly cold—at least, no more than usual—but the dampness in the air gave the room an oppressive, biting chill that made his bones ache.  Master had been to visit earlier in the day.  He didn’t get very creative in his choice of activity today; opting for a simple beating with the leather whip.  Yoosung was actually grateful that he had been chained to the wall, with his back exposed, rather than hanging from the chain—at least this concentrated the lashing to his back, instead of scattered around his front and sides, as happens when he is whipped while hanging from the chain in the middle of the room.  It was always easier to move around afterward if the soreness was confined to one area, instead of spread out all around his torso.

The loud noise of the weather masked any sound of approaching footsteps, so Yoosung was startled when the lights suddenly came on, and the metal door to the cellar slammed with a bang.  It was unusual, but not unheard of, for Master to visit twice in one day.  Usually, an evening visit like this portended that Master had *needs* that he wanted Yoosung to take care of for him.  His quiet, but purposeful mannerism seemed to lend credence to this notion.

In silence, he approached the cage, opened the door, and entered.  He took Yoosung by the leash and, giving it a small tug, led him to the table. 

“Strip.”  Master spoke quietly, but in a tone that made perfectly clear that he meant business. 

Despite this not being the first, or even the fortieth, time he’s been forced to be naked in front of Master, he still flushed a dark crimson as he slowly slipped off his threadbare jeans, followed by his t-shirt, then reluctantly removing his boxer shorts.  A subtle draft, dampened by the chilly rain, lightly kissed his bare skin, drawing goosebumps and a small shiver.

“Now, lay on the table.  On your back.” he instructed.

Yoosung was perplexed at this odd command, but he did as he was told.  The table was cold and hard against his back, pressing painfully against the fresh set of bruises and welts left by the beating earlier in the day.

Once he was lying flat on the table, Master grabbed his ankles and pulled him down, until his rear was level with the table’s edge.  Using rope, his wrists were pulled upward and tied securely to the legs of the table, leaving his arms outstretched over his head.  His legs were then tied to the legs at the opposite end of the table, such that his thighs were spread, exposing his most intimate parts.  Yoosung stared at the ceiling, once again willing his mind to separate from his body, in a desperate attempt to cope with the shame he felt.

“I wanted to try something new tonight,” Master began, an odd softness to his words. “In the time we’ve spent together, I’ve often got the feeling that something in you actually _enjoys_ being tortured.  Sometimes, it’s pretty obvious."  He paused, leaning slightly over the table to face Yoosung directly, and lightly stroked back the unruly hair that was partially obscuring the pale violet eyes that stared back at him in fearful silence.  He then continued.  "So, tonight, as I get my pleasure from you, I want to see how you respond to both pleasure and pain together.  I think already I know how this is going to turn out, but I am still very much looking forward to the experiment.”

Standing at the end of the table, he dropped his pants.  Stepping up close, he lined up his cock with Yoosung’s backside.  Using a little of his own spit for lubrication, he eased himself inside, as he had done many times before.  Yoosung squirmed and whimpered softly, closing his eyes tightly to avoid looking at Master.  He couldn’t stand being forced to face him as he was being taken.

Master sighed with pleasure as he slowly sawed in and out.  “My God, this is so much better when I can see your sweet little face.  You're blushing—how cute!  I don't think I've ever seen your face that shade of red before.  Don't tell me...do you really _still_ see yourself as innocent?  You _still_ don’t realize what a little slut you are?  Well, I’m about to prove it to you, once and for all.”  As he spoke, his hands moved lightly up Yoosung’s thighs, fingers lightly tracing his muscles as they strained against the ropes that held him in place.  From there, he paused for a moment to trace delicate circles at the crease of his hips, then up to his stomach and chest.  Then, his hands slowly wandered back downward.

“Please don’t…”  Yoosung whispered in alarm as he realized what Master had in mind.  His eyes opened and he stared at Master pleadingly.  _“_ Please _.  I can’t…”_  

 _“Oh yes,_ you can.  I _know_ you can.  And _you will_.  I intend to make you scream—in both pain _and_ pleasure.  Then, I will own you completely.”  Master said with an evil grin.

One hand wrapped around Yoosung’s cock, while the other cupped his balls.  Yoosung whimpered again, and tried to bury his face into his arm, pretending to be anywhere but where he was.  The sensation of Master’s firm grasp was almost overpowering.  He desperately willed himself to not become aroused.  _Not for him._   His mind wasn’t in this, and his heart certainly wasn’t.

His traitorous body, however, was another story entirely.

As Master slowly began stroking his hand up and down—gently at first, but with increasing speed and firmness—Yoosung felt his cock begin to slowly stiffen.  As his mind tried to stave off the ever-intensifying feelings of pleasure, it seemed that his resistance was serving only to fuel the flame.  Master was softly moaning, as his thrusts became slightly faster.  He shifted his grip on Yoosung, deftly sweeping over the head of his cock, which elicited a loud gasp, followed by an involuntary moan. 

“Oohhh…”  Yoosung felt humiliated, betrayed by his own body.  Turning his head as far as he could, he pressed his face into his arm. 

“That’s right.  Tell me how much you love this.  You’re not so innocent, are you?”

Master was thrusting rapidly in and out of Yoosung, and expertly hand-pumping his now fully-hardened cock. 

With a loud groan, Master slammed completely into Yoosung’s ass as he reached his climax.

“Now, it’s your turn.  Let’s see how quickly I can get you off.” he said breathlessly, as he quickly fastened his pants.  Bending forward, he leaned in and softly pressed his lips to the tip of Yoosung’s cock.  Opening his mouth, he took in the entire length.  Pausing to nuzzle his nose into the brown curls at the base of the penis, he hollowed his cheeks as he gently, but firmly, sucked in and pulled back.  He repeated this cycle over, and over, with increasing speed and intensity, playing Yoosung like a virtuoso plays a well-tuned instrument.

“Hrrrnnngggg…Ahhhh!”  Yoosung exclaimed, before biting down on the inside of his arm in a desperate, but futile, attempt to not cry out. 

Master continued to work on Yoosung with great proficiency, as his reluctant pet grew closer and closer to the edge. 

Feeling Yoosung’s muscles tense up in a way that signaled that he was close to finishing, Master pulled his mouth off with a loud _pop_.

“That’s it… _good boy._   You’re loving this, aren’t you?”  He asked salaciously.  Yoosung shook his head vigorously in response.  His face was deep red, beads of sweat dampening his hair and mixing with the tears that were streaming down the sides of his face.  

“No?  Well, your body is telling me otherwise,” he said with a laugh.

Once again, a gentle but firm hand encircled Yoosung’s cock and resumed pumping.  Master reached his other hand into his pocket and retrieved a small object.  Yoosung’s eyes snapped open when he heard the familiar _click_ —the opening of Master’s pocketknife.

“Let’s see what a little pain slut you really are,” he said as he placed the edge of the blade at the center of Yoosung’s chest. 

“No…ahhh….no…please…ahhh” Yoosung tried to speak, but his rapid breathing and the relentless waves of sensation made it difficult.  

Speeding up the stroking, and sweeping his thumb over the tip every few strokes, Master slowly applied pressure behind the blade.  Yoosung’s eyes were wide and glazed over, staring blankly at the ceiling as incoherent sounds and babbling uttered forth from his mouth.  As the blade broke through the skin, and proceeded to travel downward, splitting the flesh as it went, Yoosung let out a low, guttural moan. 

Master intensified the stroking a bit more as he moved the knife to Yoosung’s left side.

“Hrrrnnnnnngggg…” Yoosung cried out as the blade once again carved into his body. 

Unable to move anything but his head, Yoosung lifted it up, then dropped it back down against the table with a loud _clunk_ that echoed throughout the cellar.  Finding a small distraction in the resulting pain in the back of his head, he repeated the action two more times, relishing the combination of pain and dizziness that accompanied each concussive blow to the head. 

 _"Stop it."_ Master commanded.  For emphasis, he dug the point of the knife a bit deeper into Yoosung's flesh, before giving it a slight twist as he removed it.  The move elicited a hoarse scream as Yoosung twisted his head to the side, once again biting down on the inside of his arm until he tasted his own blood.

Once more, the blade sank into Yoosung’s skin, slowly cutting into the sensitive flesh just above his right hip.  At the same time, Master tightened his grasp, pulling upward on the pulsing cock as he rolled his fingers around the shaft.  This was Yoosung’s undoing.  He felt himself hurling over the edge into a swirling abyss of light and overwhelming sensation.

“Hnnng... _I don't want to_...ahh... _oh God_...please I—I’m gonna… _Ahhhhgghhh!!”_   He screamed out as he came, hard.  He curled inward on himself as much as his restraints would allow, as several shots of thick, white fluid spurted from the tip of his cock, landing in thick streams on his stomach.

Yoosung's body collapsed, his head once again falling to the table with a painful _thud_. 

Master laughed triumphantly as he surveyed the aftermath.  _“I knew it!_   You actually get off from being sliced up.  _You filthy, twisted little masochist!”_

Releasing his grip on the softening cock, Master scooped up some of the spilled ejaculate onto his fingers, which he then pushed to Yoosung’s quivering lips.

“Go on. You know what to do,” he ordered.  Yoosung opened his mouth and accepted the fingers willingly.

“Th-thank you, Master...” he faltered, his barely audible voice cracking and wavering as he quietly sobbed.

“That's a good boy!  I am very proud of you,” Master stepped around the table to stand by Yoosung’s head, then bent down to plant a kiss on his lips, glistening with his own semen.

Leaning over so that his lips were just a couple of inches from Yoosung’s ear, Master whispered, “You taste so good.  You’re mine, forever.”

Yoosung could only nod his head weakly, his eyes clenched shut as tears continued to spill freely. 

He had never felt so betrayed, so broken, so ashamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These dark chapters were REALLY hard to write, but this one hurt most of all--to the point that I lost sleep and felt physically ill. I honestly worried that I crossed the line here. My poor, sweet baby... 
> 
> The title of this chapter is a nod to a beautifully haunting and disturbing song by Sarah McLachlan. If you're so inclined, you can read up on the background story of the song and do your own analysis of the lyrics and how well they fit the story. And, of course, there's some more Depeche Mode to bring the darkness. I love the song "In Your Room", and I've included the album version and a remix that I love equally. Hope you enjoy my weird taste in music! 
> 
> Possession--Sarah McLachlan https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMTPrLNDgGc
> 
> In Your Room--Depeche Mode (Album Version) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_6GYfSea5Y 
> 
> In Your Room--Depeche Mode (Zephyr Remix) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQclXkjJz-w
> 
> Stripped--Depeche Mode https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3qWKNdyYH4


	9. Damaged Goods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master has discovered that, yet again, he has been abandoned by his support system. Overcome with hurt and rage, he takes his anger out on the only person in his world--Yoosung. But, will Yoosung survive the uncontrolled violence of this jilted soul?
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 9:  Damaged Goods**

Day 169—October 24th

* * *

 

11:21am

 

A cold wind whipped through the long, dead blades of grass outside of the little window.  The sky beyond was shrouded in a thick, dark grey blanket of clouds. It was noticeably colder in the cellar today, definitively heralding the change of the seasons. 

Yoosung lay flat on his back on the concrete floor, too sore to move after the beating he received last night.  He still couldn’t figure out what he had done to provoke the rage that was inflicted on him.  Of course, when Master flew into one of his fits of anger, the cause was rarely ever obvious. 

He was fairly sure that he had at least a couple of broken ribs from where he was struck with one of the wooden dining chairs as he was chained to the wall.  There was a large goose-egg on the back of his head, the result of being struck repeatedly in the face while being up against an unforgiving stone wall.  His right eye was swollen shut; his left eye could open just enough for him to gaze at the one focal point in the room that offered any sort of hope—the little window high on the cellar wall.  Staring at it, watching the changes in the weather, the color of the sky, the subtle changes in the sun’s pattern and the way it slowly shifted the shadows in the room from one day to the next, marking the passage of time—all of this provided a small mental escape from the crushing pain that had come to define his existence. 

Today, his thoughts were fractured by the relentless waves of pain that shot through his head.  Each wave was accompanied with a feeling that was a mixture of nausea and dizziness.  He had found that lying flat on his back was the best way to stop the spinning of the room around him, especially when he was struck with spasms of coughing fits that brought with them pain so severe that he’d nearly black out.

Yoosung tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t help but replay in his mind some of the terrifying things that happened the night before…  

 

* * *

 

Day 168—October 23rd _(the previous day)_

9:58pm

 

Master had stormed into the room, screaming things that seemed to make no sense.  Something about being tossed aside like garbage.  He had grabbed Yoosung from his cage by the collar, hauled him to the wall, and fastened his wrists high about his head.  He then proceeded to rapidly throw punches as hard as he could. 

Suddenly, he had paused his onslaught and stepped back, somewhat unsteadily.  Reaching into an unseen pocket, he retrieved a small, black object.  In his punch-drunk daze, Yoosung couldn’t focus his eyes enough to tell what the object was. 

Master stood for a moment, breathing heavily with a crazed look in his eyes, then lunged forward, one hand grabbing Yoosung by the hair and the other hand digging the dark metal object into the side of his head—the barrel of a small pistol.

“I will fucking end you now!” Master screamed.  Yoosung clenched his eyes shut and held his breath, waiting for the inevitable. 

A moment passed, that felt like an eternity, but was in fact only a few seconds.  The only sound in the room was Master’s rapid, jagged breathing. 

Yoosung stood frozen, afraid to open his eyes or take a breath.

“I swear, I’ll do it.  I will end it all—you, me, this whole fucked-up mess…”  Master spoke again, but his voice was significantly lower in volume, and carried a distinct tremble of hesitation.

“I’m sorry…” Yoosung said faintly.

“ _What_?  Why are you sorry?”  Master stepped backward, caught off-guard by Yoosung’s apology.

“For whatever I did to make you angry,” Yoosung slowly and painfully opened his eyes as much as he could with the swelling setting in.  “I can see that you’re hurt, and I’m sorry for anything I did to cause it.”

Master lowered the gun and looked at Yoosung with complete bewilderment.  He wasn’t sure how to respond to empathy, especially considering the source. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, Master.  I’m concerned about you.”

“If you’re fucking with me, I swear to God _I will kill you_ …right after I make you watch me kill your girl.”

“No!  No, I’m not f-fucking with you…I mean it.”

“What could you _possibly_ know about _me?_ Why would _you_ , _of_ ALL _people_ , care about how I feel?  I sure as fuck don’t care about your feelings.  Nobody cares about either one of us.  We’re both pieces of garbage.  Damaged goods.  Nobody is interested in either of us.”  Master sat down in one of the wooden dining chairs, suddenly looking distant and exhausted.  He sighed as he fidgeted with gun in his hands.

“You know, I went down to the city last night.  I was trying to contact my boss, but I found that I’ve been cut off.  Everyone is gone.  I’ve got nothing.  I’ve been abandoned. _Again_.”  Master clenched his teeth as he stared at the floor.  “And, I also noticed that they’re scaling back the search efforts for you.  Most of the posters and signs that have been up all over the place are gone.  When I passed by the search headquarters, there was hardly anyone there and almost all of the equipment and furnishings have been moved out.  So, you’ve clearly been abandoned, too.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to look for me forever…” The quiet sadness in Yoosung’s voice was palpable as his words trailed off.

“Oh, but guess who I _did_ see while I was in town?”  Master asked, with a renewed energy in his voice and a smile spreading across his face.  “I saw _Eleanora_.”

Yoosung looked up, a guarded expression shadowing his face.  He hated it when Master talked about Eleanora.  He knew how much Master loved to use her to mentally torture him.

“Yes, I even got a picture, just for you. Want to see it?”  He slowly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.

Yoosung’s mind raced as he tried to quickly decide how to respond to this.  He didn’t want to participate in this “game”—he had played it before, and lost every time.  However, if he wasn’t receptive, he could set Master off again. 

Yoosung felt nauseous as he realized just how weary he was of these psychological games.  _Why couldn’t Master have just pulled the trigger a moment ago?_

“Well, do you want to see your girl or not?” Master demanded impatiently. 

“Ok…” Yoosung finally decided to acquiesce.  He’d play along, this time… _again_.  After all, it's not like he really had much of a choice.

Master stepped close, unfolded the picture, and held it up for Yoosung to see.  It was a candid shot of Eleanora, standing on a city sidewalk, being held tightly by Zen.  Her face was buried in Zen’s chest, and his hand was protectively placed around the side of her head.  Long, chestnut hair cascaded from her shoulders.  Any bystander who wasn’t familiar with the context of the situation would have guessed that the pair were lovers sharing an embrace. 

In reality, however, Eleanora had just stormed out of a meeting with several RFA members about the status of the search operation—in particular, that it was being scaled back due to an almost complete absence of leads.  Zen had then followed her, concerned for her safety, and was trying his best to calm her down and give her some comfort.  Not a minute earlier, he had even stopped her from mindlessly stepping in front of a passing bus.  

Of course, none of this was readily obvious to Yoosung, which was precisely the intent.  Staring at the picture and the false story it was trying to tell, he could feel the bile rising in his throat.  He quickly looked away, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?  To be discarded and… _replaced_ …by the one you love—the one you _thought_ loved you?”  Master spoke in a tone that was at the same time both mockingly condescending, but also echoing an intense, pervasive pain and sadness.

Yoosung stared at the floor, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions.  As damning as the picture seemed to be, something just didn’t seem right.  If she had moved on, why did he still feel her presence with him in his darkest moments?  Why did his heart still recognize her love when his body and soul cried out to her in anguish? 

Sure, there had been a few bumps in his relationship with Zen, and there had even been a few times that Zen had really pissed him off, despite having good intentions. 

When push came to shove, though, he knew that Zen was his _friend_ , someone who had been there for him no matter what, and he was one of the few people that he would entrust with watching over Eleanora to keep her safe. 

As the pieces fell together, Yoosung felt more and more certain that the picture was not as it seemed. 

The psychological trap laid by Master had failed. 

Then, Yoosung made a terrible mistake, one that would end up costing him dearly.

“ _Maybe things aren’t what they seem to be_.  Maybe things aren’t as bad as they appear…”  Yoosung, experiencing a moment of optimism after his analysis of the picture, was naïvely attempting to share that optimism with Master.

Master, however, had a very specific outcome in mind when he waited for hours to get just the right photo...one that would appear to tell a certain story.  He wanted Yoosung to have a small taste of the rejection and abandonment he himself had experienced in his life. 

The response he got from Yoosung was not what he expected, or wanted. 

And he was furious. 

He was far, far beyond furious.

 _“What do you mean, you stupid fuck-twit?_   Your girlfriend is with a hot actor…she’s ditched you and moved on!  Did you really think she’d wait for you forever?  She’s _abandoned_ you!!!”

“I don’t think…”  Yoosung started, but was cut short by a wooden chair being slammed into his side, crushing him against the wall before shattering into pieces and splinters. 

Yoosung saw millions of stars explode in his field of vision as every ounce of air was forcibly expelled from his lungs.  His mouth opened in shock, but he was robbed of any breath to make a sound.  He felt like the world was crashing in around him, crushing him.  His vision dimmed as his legs collapsed under him, and he slumped against the wall.  Small trickles of blood began to seep from several cuts and embedded splinters across his side and torso.

Master was screaming at him, but all he could hear was a dull ringing that flooded his brain, as if every neuron, every synapse were on fire. 

If pain could be heard, _this_ is what it sounded like.

“What the _fuck_ do you know about anything?  You naïve idiot!  You’re too stupid to even know when you’ve been thrown away.  Look at you—do you honestly think anyone wants you now?  You’re broken.  Scarred.  Ruined.  Worthless.  Don't you get it, y _ou pathetic idiot???_   You’re like me... _damaged goods._   But you’re too stupid to know that, aren’t you?” 

Yoosung was barely able to hear, let alone comprehend, what was being shouted at him.  Pain—burning, crushing pain—enveloped him and invaded all of his senses, effectively drowning out almost everything else.  He had no idea what had triggered this explosion; he was sincerely trying to help…

The last thing Yoosung remembered was sinking to the floor in a heap after Master unfastened his wrist cuffs, then being dragged into his cell. 

Without another word, Master locked the door, killed the lights, and left the cellar, once again allowing the heavy metal door to slam shut behind him. 

Yoosung writhed in pain, coughing violently and involuntarily as his lungs screamed for air.  Any attempt to take a breath triggered a coughing fit.  Each cough sent spasms of unbearable pain throughout his torso, which somehow seemed to set off more coughing. 

The excruciating cycle continued until the sweet, dark relief of unconsciousness finally claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Barrel of a Gun--Depeche Mode https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpZw9cHV1_0
> 
> Watch Me Bleed--Tears for Fears https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRjMUFp28kA
> 
> Mad World--Michael Andrews/Gary Jules https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgLle5YASeg


	10. Regret and Repose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time has dragged on, Master's behavior has become more and more unpredictable. After a particularly explosive incident resulted in some fairly serious injuries to Yoosung, something...guilt, maybe?...produced a change in the way Master treated his pet. 
> 
> Could it be that Master was having a change of heart?
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 10:  Regret and Repose**

Day 170—October 25th

* * *

 

5:22pm

 

Awareness came slowly, gently; like a clear, warm dawn kissed by the fading moonlight.

An odd, floating sensation, and soothing warmth.  He felt almost...comfortable.  He felt some pain in his side, but it seemed faint; distant.  His long, dark eyelashes fluttered delicately as his eyes slowly opened.  He was still in his cage, but he was laying on a makeshift bed, with clean blankets and a pillow supporting his head.  Thick bandages were wrapped around his torso, stabilizing the broken ribs. 

Lifting his head slightly, he looked around the room, trying to make some sense of what was happening.  Looking across the room, he saw Master sitting at the table, reading a book, a cup of tea in his hand.  After a moment, his eyes lifted from the page he was reading, and met Yoosung’s gaze. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said pleasantly, “Well, it isn’t actually _morning_ …but, anyway.  Glad to finally see you awake.  You’ve been in and out for almost two days.”

“What…happened?” Yoosung asked, his voice weak and shaky. 

“I got carried away the other night.  And for that, I am sorry,” Master said quietly.  He stood up and made his way to the door to Yoosung’s cell.  Opening it and stepping inside, he kneeled next to the stack of blankets that served as a bed.  Carefully pulling back the covers, he examined the bandages.  “You have two, possibly three, broken ribs.  They’re set in the right position and should heal up pretty fast if you rest for a few weeks.  Also…” he took Yoosung’s hand, lifting it slightly and revealing an intravenous line taped to the inside of his lower arm, “you were really dehydrated, so this line is providing you some fluids.  I’ve also given you some painkillers.  I don’t have a very big supply, but there’s enough for you to at least be able to rest somewhat comfortably for a while.”

“Thank you,” Yoosung whispered.  To say he was confused would be a gross understatement. “But…why?” he started, but Master held up his hand in a cautionary gesture. 

“Stop right there,” he interrupted.

“Let’s get one thing straight right now.  Do not get used to this.  Our relationship hasn’t changed.  I felt bad about what happened, so I’m fixing the damage as best I can.  I need for you to be healthy enough to continue your role.  That’s all this is about, and nothing more.  We are simply taking a break.”

Master took a small vial of clear liquid from his jacket pocket.  He then produced a syringe.  Uncapping the needle, he pierced it through the stopper on the vial, and carefully drew a measured amount into the syringe.

“This is a painkiller.  You’re almost due for your next dose, and I want to go ahead and get it on board so your pain doesn’t have a chance to come back as the previous dose wears off.” he said as he removed the needle from the vial and placed it into a port on the IV line.  Slowly, he pushed the medicine into the line.  Yoosung felt an immediate burning sensation in his arm as the medicine entered his bloodstream, followed by a feeling of floating and spinning, as his eyes lost their focus.

“Go ahead and rest.  You’ll heal faster.  I’ll be back later to feed you.”  Master stepped out of the cage, closing the door behind him. 

As the medication took its full effect, Yoosung forgot the many questions swirling around his mind, and he drifted into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

9:50pm

 

The next thing Yoosung remembered was a hand reaching around the back of his head, gently lifting it up off of the pillow.  A cup of something warm and delicious-smelling was placed to his lips.  Struggling to open his eyes, Yoosung took a small sip of the substance being offered to him.  It tasted like chicken broth, and it was wonderful. 

“There you go.  This will help you get your strength back.  I need for you to be well and strong,” The voice itself was familiar, but the gentle, soothing way in which it was addressing him was very foreign. 

Yoosung tried to speak, but he was too groggy to form words.  His entire body felt like it was made of lead, and he could barely string coherent thoughts together, but he was blissfully pain-free.  He couldn’t begin to figure out why all of a sudden Master was showing him such kindness, but he didn’t dare question it.  Instead, he tried to relax and clear his mind as he continued to drink the delicious soup.  Soon, he was once again engulfed in a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next couple of weeks passed in similar fashion—hours upon hours of sleep induced by pain medication, interrupted only by warm, nourishing meals and compassionate medical treatment. 

On several occasions, Yoosung would be alert enough to try to engage in conversation, but Master would always end any efforts, and Yoosung eventually decided to keep quiet as much as possible.  He had no idea why so much effort was being put into making him well, but he was grateful just the same. 

Maybe, just maybe, Master was having a change of heart? 

Yoosung could always hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have any songs to share for this chapter, so I'll just take this opportunity to THANK YOU for reading! :)


	11. Retrograde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After weeks of nursing Yoosung back to health, Master decides it's time to resume the game.
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 11:  Retrograde**

Day 196—November 20th

* * *

 

9:46am

 

It had been several days since the bandages came off, and almost as long since Yoosung had needed any pain medicine.  His side was still sore, and it still carried a collection of multicolored bruises in varying stages of healing, but he was able to breathe and move around with little trouble. Master had still been providing him with decent meals and plenty of fluids, and he had allowed Yoosung to keep his upgraded bedding.  He had also removed the wrist and ankle cuffs for the duration of his “treatment”. 

The time the two had spent together had largely been quiet; for the past month, Master had been uncharacteristically taciturn, and Yoosung had long given up on trying to get him to open up.  For the most part, Yoosung had been cautiously optimistic that Master’s behavior toward him was an indication that he had changed—or, at the very least, that there was hope that this horrible chapter in his life won’t be the end of his story.

On this particularly cold morning, a rim of light frost glinted on the glass of the cellar window.  The sky was a pale blue, and the sun shone brilliantly—in stark contrast to the crisp autumn chill hanging in the air.  Yoosung was feeling better than he had felt in the entire time he had been in captivity.  He sat upright against the wall of his cell, wearing an old, worn-out pair of jeans and an equally old, worn-out sweatshirt. 

The metal door of the cellar opened, and Master entered the room.  After closing and locking the door, he walked to the door of Yoosung’s cell.  “Good morning, my pet.  You are looking pretty good today.”  There was a …quality…to Master’s voice that Yoosung couldn’t quite define—and it scared him to death.  Something wasn’t right. 

“I feel better, thank you...”  He said timidly.  Master smiled, but it looked fake somehow.  Something in Master’s eyes was very different—frightening, almost inhuman.  Yoosung felt a familiar sinking, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Master slowly turned the key in the lock, swung the door to the cage open, and stepped inside.  He knelt down next to where Yoosung sat.

“I’ve missed playing with you,” he purred in a dark voice that made Yoosung’s skin crawl as he intentionally stared silently at the floor.  Dread washed over him like an ice cold deluge, piercing his mind and flooding his veins. 

_Oh, no._

_Please...don't let things go back to the way they were._  

In his innocent naïveté, Yoosung had dared to hope that things had really changed, but with each passing second, he could sense that he had been fooled into a false sense of security that was about to implode.

Leaning in, Master reached his hand around Yoosung’s head and pulled him in for a short, but intense, kiss.  Yoosung was too stunned to move, but he could feel the nausea building in his stomach.

“I brought you a present,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket.  He produced a pair of new-looking leather cuffs, each with thick metal rings attached.  Yoosung shuddered and instinctively and protectively rubbed his wrists, which had finally healed from the friction sores left by the old cuffs.

“You had nearly worn out your old cuffs, so I got you some new ones.  Nice, huh?” he said cheerfully. “Now, give me your hands,” he commanded. 

Afraid to argue, Yoosung quickly obeyed.  The cuffs were soon firmly fastened around each wrist.  Another, larger pair of cuffs were retrieved from Master’s other jacket pocket, and were quickly fastened to his ankles.  Finally, a new leather collar was placed around Yoosung’s neck.

“The game is officially back on.  If you recall, I made it quite clear that our relationship hasn’t changed.  Now that you’ve had a rest, I expect you to be on your best behavior.  You will use your manners and show some gratitude for my benevolence.” As he finished, he clipped the thin, black leather leash to the collar, allowing his fingers to run the length of it, slowly and deliberately.  As he reached the end of the leash, he gripped the end tightly.

“Now, come, pet.”  He gave a slight yank to the leash, prompting Yoosung to begin crawling forward.  Master liked it when he crawled to him.

“Good boy,” Master said approvingly.

Once they were outside of the cell, Master ordered Yoosung to his feet.  With some struggle, Yoosung stood, partially hunched over, wincing as he tried to straighten to his full height.  Master then led him to the middle of the room.

“Turn around, and put your hands behind your back.”  Master commanded, and Yoosung reached his hands behind him. He felt and heard the clicks as his wrists were fastened together.  A familiar rush of panic swept over him; no matter how many times this happened to him, he could never fully prepare himself for what inevitably comes after those terrible clicking sounds.

“Now, kneel.”  Yoosung was a bit clumsy, but managed to get to his knees. 

Master then slowly circled around the frightened boy.  Yoosung had a pretty good idea of where this was going.  He had honestly thought there was a chance that this phase of his captivity was over, but it was clear that Master had reverted to his former ways.  Master turned to face his pet.  Eyes of malevolent green stared down into wide, glistening, pale violet ones.

“Are you hungry?” he asked with a smirk.  He slowly removed his belt and unfastened his pants.  Soon, his stiffening cock was staring Yoosung in the face. 

“You know what to do,” the statement sounded more like an order.  Closing his eyes and trying (as always) to distance himself from what he was being forced to do, Yoosung opened his mouth and did what was expected of him.  Master grabbed the sides of Yoosung’s head and repeatedly and roughly slammed his cock down Yoosung’s throat.  Yoosung tried desperately, but unsuccessfully, to accommodate the invasion without gagging, while tears spilled from his tightly closed eyes.

After a few minutes, Master groaned softly.  Wrapping his fingers tightly into Yoosung’s hair and pulling him forward, he gave one last thrust, burying his cock deep into Yoosung’s throat as he came hard.  He then grew still and quiet, placing a hand gently on the top of Yoosung’s head as he slowly pulled out of his mouth.

Yoosung sat motionless, mouth still slightly agape and eyes still tightly shut.  His bottom lip quivered as tears continued to stream hotly down his reddened face. 

No matter how many times he was forced to give Master blow jobs, he never got used to it, and he rarely got through it without crying.  

This time was worse than the others; it felt like a betrayal after weeks of kindness had led him to believe that things had changed.

Once Master gathered his senses and buttoned up his pants, he pulled Yoosung to his feet.  From there, he was marched back into his cell.  Master walked over to the sink, and pulled an old, rusty bucket from underneath.  He gave it a rinse, then filled it nearly to the top with water.  Then, he retrieved a metal cup from a cabinet, and brought both to the cage and set them just inside the door. 

“Here is some water.  I’m going to town today.  Sorry for having to give it to you in an old bucket, but, it’s your own fault for breaking the glass bottle I was nice enough to give you before.”  He then walked back to the kitchen area, opened a cupboard, and took out a package of crackers.  Approaching the cage again, he tossed them through the bars.  “Here’s something to eat.  I’ll be back either late tonight or in the morning.  Behave while I’m gone, or you’ll live just long enough to regret it,” he warned severely, before slamming the metal door shut behind him.

Yoosung curled up in his makeshift bed, which Master had allowed him to keep.  Left alone with his own thoughts, he stared at the little window at the brilliant sunshine and the brown, red, and yellow leaves that sailed by in the occasional breeze.  Focusing on the light and the colors of the leaves, he tried to shift his mind away from where he was…anywhere else but here. 

He wondered what Eleanora was doing.  Part of him selfishly wished that she was thinking of him, but part of him also hoped that she was moving on with her life and finding happiness.  

“I love you, Eleanora…” he whispered to the sky, hoping with all of his heart that she could hear him in the cool autumn breeze.

_"You are worth all of this."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Whisper--Evanescence https://youtu.be/Cd9mLiAIMFE
> 
> Haunted--Evanescence https://youtu.be/di8zQcabGBc
> 
> Imaginary--Evanescence https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0ShYd5ruB8
> 
> (Evanescence phase!)


	12. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all of this time, Yoosung is getting closer and closer to giving up. 
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 12:  Breaking Point**

Day 197—November 21st

* * *

 

11:37am

 

A cold rain was falling outside.  Yoosung hated it when it rained, because it caused the atmosphere in the cellar to be even more damp and musty than it usually was.  In the summer, it made it almost unbearably muggy, but in the colder weather, it created a chill that cut to the bone, especially when the wind blew hard enough to send drafts through the room. 

That was exactly what was happening today, and Yoosung was sitting huddled in a ball on his stack of blankets, with one pulled tightly around him.  Even with the blanket, he couldn’t stop shivering; his breath hanging in front of his face in a translucent mist.

The dull roar of the rain hitting the exterior of the barn cellar masked the sound of Master’s footsteps approaching in the corridor outside, so the sudden clang of the metal door caused Yoosung to jump in surprise.  Master was carrying a stack of small boxes, and had a couple of bags hanging on his arm.  He sat the things on the table, then removed his long coat, gave it a few quick shakes to remove the excess water, then laid it over one of the two remaining dining chairs at the table.

“What a miserable, cold day,” he mused, “I heard that it might snow soon.  Good thing I went for supplies when I did.”

“How was your trip?”  Yoosung asked timidly, in an attempt to make conversation.

“Long.  Uneventful.  I would even say…boring,” he replied.  “I didn’t see any of your friends, though I didn’t have much time to mess with tracking them down on this trip.  I did drive by the search headquarters.  It’s shut down, and the office space is vacant and advertised for rent.  So, they’ve finally given up on finding you.”

“After all this time, I’m not surprised…” Yoosung sighed sadly.

“I did, however, get you some presents.  I think you’ll like them!” He said jubilantly as he took an assortment of cans and boxes of food from the bags and put them in the cupboard.  Once he was finished putting away the food, he returned to the stack of boxes on the table.  Opening the one on top, he produced a brand-new, neatly folded suit.  He held it up for Yoosung to see.  “A new outfit!  I can’t wait to see you model this for me,” he said suggestively.  Yoosung glanced down and felt his cheeks flush. 

Master then picked up the next box, which was a bit longer and skinnier than the first.  He examined the shipping label, then held it up to his ear, shaking it slightly as if he were trying to determine the contents without opening it.  “ _Oh_...I remember what this is.  I ordered it a while back, so I'd forgotten about it.  Hehehe...We will have fun with this a little later.  You’re really going to love it!”  He giggled wildly as he set the box back down on the table.  Yoosung looked bewildered, having no idea what the item in the box could possibly be, but something about how Master regarded it made him very uncomfortable.  He doubted seriously if he was actually going to like anything about it.

The third and final box, a large, sturdy plastic crate, was placed in a corner near the table.  “This one is a bit less exciting—it’s just medical supplies. We used up most of them during your little break over the last few weeks.  I’m pretty sure we’ll need them again at some point, or else I won’t be doing my job properly. Hehe!” 

Once everything was properly put away, he approached the door of Yoosung’s cell. 

“Time to play, my pet,” he said, as if he were talking to a small child.  Opening the door, he slowly pulled the blanket off of Yoosung, exposing him to the cold air.  He was woefully underdressed for the temperatures of the room, in just a thin white t-shirt and worn, tattered jeans that were a bit too short for him.  Master took hold of the leash and pulled it.

“Come,” he commanded softly.  Yoosung obeyed, following him out of the cage.

“Now, put your hands out in front of you.”  Yoosung slowly extended his arms, allowing them to be fastened together by the cuffs on his wrists. Then, he was led to the center of the room where the large chain hung from a pulley on the ceiling.  Master fastened Yoosung’s wrists to the end of the chain, bringing his arms up just a little above his head, while his feet were still firmly on the ground. 

“You’re a bit over-dressed for this party.  Let’s fix that.”  Pulling his pocketknife out, and opening the blade, he made quick work of the white t-shirt Yoosung was wearing, leaving him in only faded, worn blue jeans.  Yoosung shivered as the wet, cold air lapped at his exposed skin. 

Walking over to a large metal hand crank, he turned it slowly, winding up the chain, pulling Yoosung upward, until his feet barely touched the ground, then his toes.  Another turn of the crank, and he was hanging freely, his weight fully supported only by his wrists.  For good measure, Master turned the crank one more time, so that Yoosung’s feet dangled a little more than a foot from the ground.  As he hung helplessly, swinging ever-so-slightly by the chain, Yoosung’s face was locked in a painful grimace.  His wrists, arms, and shoulders burned from the tension of bearing his weight from such an awkward angle.

“Now, what should I do with you today?”  Master asked, amusement soaking through his words.  Yoosung opened his eyes to watch him, but was biting his lips in a desperate attempt to avoid vocalizing his pain.  He felt like his shoulders might actually be pulled out of their joint sockets.  Try as he might, there was no way he could wriggle into a bearable position. 

As Yoosung hung painfully from the ceiling, he was unable to control the slow spin of the chain, and he was momentarily unable to see what Master was doing.  He heard a sound that suggested that he was rummaging through the cart where he kept all of his “equipment” (i.e. torture devices).  When he returned to where he could see what was going on, Master had set several items on top of the cart, and was rolling it closer to the suspended boy.

“Are you ready for our game, pet?” He stepped close, looking up to stare Yoosung in the face.  “Oh, wait.  I almost forgot something.”  Reaching over to the cart, he fished in one of the drawers near the top and produced a ball gag.  “As much as I love to hear you scream, I’m not really in the mood for your noise today.  Here, open up…”  He had to stand on his toes to reach up and around Yoosung’s head, but Yoosung was too scared to not cooperate, so he was shortly fitted with the rubber ball firmly secured into his mouth by a tight leather strap that went around the back of his head.

“What should we do first?”  Master asked playfully as he strolled casually over to the rack on the wall that held lengths of chains, ropes, and leather straps.  Running a finger along the varied selection, he paused at a coiled length of rubber hose about an inch thick.  “Hmm,” he uttered thoughtfully as he stroked the thick, but flexible tubing with his fingertips, “this should be something different and interesting.  Let’s see what this can do.”

Unrolling the hose and folding it double, he held the loose ends, and shook the looped end out to his side, like he did when he wielded the whip.  Then, drawing his arm and the hose back behind him, he swung it at Yoosung as hard as he could.  The hose sailed through the air, making an odd, low-pitched ‘whoosh’ as it quickly and forcefully made contact with the small of Yoosung’s back with a loud _‘POP’._

“Rnnnggghh,” Yoosung cried into his gag, his body arching and writhing uselessly.  The movement caused a small amount of spin momentum, turning Yoosung to face his captor.  Master chuckled as he pulled the rubber tubing back for another swing.

Another “ _pop_ ” echoed across the room.  This time, the strike landed just below Yoosung’s sternum, in the center of his chest.

“Hrrnnggh…”  Once again, Yoosung’s helpless body jerked in an involuntary and hopeless attempt to escape from this unusual, but excruciating punishment.

Master collected the tubing as he stepped closer to examine the marks that were being left on Yoosung’s skin.  Thick, bright red welts were forming, but no obvious damage to the skin could be found.

“Interesting,” he noted, “this could be a good way to inflict pain without incurring blood loss or infection risk.”  Yoosung had rolled his head back so that he was facing the ceiling.  His body shook with sobs.

“Such a cry baby…” Master taunted. “You know, if you cry too much, you’re going to get your nose all stopped up, then you won’t be able to breathe.”

Yoosung whimpered softly through the rubber in his mouth.  There were already thin strands of mucus streaming from his nose. 

“Gross,” Master muttered disgustedly.

Stepping back, he took another swing.

“ _Pop_ ”

This one landed just a couple of inches above his left hipbone, wringing a high-pitched muffled squeal from Yoosung.  Lifting his head between his arms, he looked pleadingly at Master, his red, teary eyes begging for mercy.

“What is it?" Master demanded impatiently.  "Aren’t you having fun?”

Yoosung shook his head vigorously.  "Uhn-uhn," he forced from behind the rubber gag.  His breathing was becoming strained as he tried to force air through his partially-stuffed, runny nose.

Master took yet another swing, and the cellar walls once again echoed with the sound of rubber striking flesh, followed by a muffled scream.  A thick, long welt began to form across Yoosung’s back, from his left shoulder blade to his right hip.

Rolling his shoulder and stretching his arm, Master pulled the hose back for one final blow.

“ _POP_ ”

Yoosung involuntarily attempted to double over as the strike landed squarely across his stomach.  A deep, grunting moan was the only sound he could make in response.  His eyes clenched shut as he pressed his face into his right arm.  His breaths came as rapid, jagged sniffles.

Master returned the hose to the rack, and approached Yoosung again, lightly touching the reddening marks on his skin.  Despite the delicate strokes of his fingers, Yoosung whimpered and flinched at each one.

“I must say, I’m pleasantly surprised at how effective that was.  I’ll have to remember this…” he said admiringly.  Circling around and looking up at Yoosung’s face, he noticed that the quivering, whimpering boy was beginning to have a bluish tint to his face.  Reaching up, he released the clasp at the back of Yoosung’s head and removed the gag. 

Yoosung gasped loudly, as his burning lungs fought to fill themselves with air.  Each breath seared his newly-acquired bruises.

His hunger for inflicting suffering sated for the moment, Master abruptly and silently exited the cellar, leaving his hapless prisoner hanging like a tragic ornament from the cellar ceiling.

The unbearable hours that followed were among the worst that Yoosung had experienced thus far in his personal hell-hole.  Every joint in his arms cried out for mercy, his chest was unable to expand fully to accommodate adequate breathing, his mind swirled in and out of varying stages of awareness. 

He felt his hard-fought grip on sanity fading.

 

* * *

 

4:59pm

 

Yoosung was startled awake from his semi-conscious state by the familiar clang of the metal door.  Master entered the room, seemingly distracted by his own thoughts, but froze when he saw Yoosung still hanging on the chain.  “Oh, wow.  I forgot I left you hanging like that,” he said nonchalantly. 

“Please…”  Yoosung said softly.  His head hung low, his eyes still closed tightly.

“Please…what?”  Master asked flatly.

“Please… _kill_ … _me_ …”  Yoosung’s broken voice became surprisingly clear as he slowly formed the words.

“What?” Master asked incredulously.  “What did you just say?” His expression was hard to decipher, registering a combination of shock, fascination, and maybe even a bit of anger.

 _“K-kill me…I…I c--can’t…I can’t…please…just…kill…me…”_   His words were barely intelligible as his voice began to falter.

“That's what I thought you said,"  Master nodded slightly, contemplating Yoosung's words.  His face grew dark with fury.

"What in the hell makes you think you get to decide when the end comes for you?  _Just who, exactly, do you think you are?_   Have you learned nothing in all your time here?”  The tone in Master’s voice shifted from one similar to a preschool teacher speaking to a small, errant child, to one of a deranged psychopath speaking to a tortured prisoner.

“I know who I am,” Yoosung looked up, his voice suddenly a bit stronger.  “I’m nobody… _nothing_.  My heart may still be beating, but I stopped living months ago.  You’ve taken everything I have.  Please, I beg you, have mercy and take the only thing I have left.  Please, take my life, and leave Eleanora and the RFA alone.” His head dropped in defeat as he finished his plea.

“I take instructions from no one, especially a _pet_.”  Master scoffed coldly. “Need I remind you, that you promised to be loyal to me, and if you so much as fainted, I could have your girl and do whatever I wished to her?”

Yoosung felt the hot sting of tears once again.  “But, when does it end?” he asked, the hopelessness in his exhausted voice was palpable. 

“It ends when I say it does.  That’s what you agreed to.  Are you reneging on our deal?”  Master stepped in close to Yoosung, so that he could look up and look him in the face. 

 _“Please….have….mercy….”_ Yoosung sobbed quietly, _“I’m…so….tired….”_

 _ **“’**_ ** _Mercy’?!?"_  ** _"_ Mercy, huh?  You want me to have ‘mercy’ on you?  Because you’re ‘ _tired’_?  Are you fucking kidding me?”  His voice rose louder and shriller with each word.  Yoosung lifted his head as much as he could and looked at Master with his eyes wide with fear.

“When was _I_ ever shown ‘ _mercy’_ , even when I _begged_ for it?”  Master screamed.  “I never got special treatment when I was ‘ _tired’._ What makes you _so fucking special?_   You’re _nothing_ …you were only ever a mediocre college student...a useless lump of wasted potential...a whiny…little… _boy_ , whose only accomplishment in life is his ranking in a stupid video game.  And you think you’re _special_ , and deserve ‘ _mercy’_???”

Suddenly, Master spun around and landed a solid kick directly to Yoosung’s side, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to swing and spin.  Yoosung was overwhelmed with pain as the force of the kick laid into him, and he felt something pop in his right shoulder that his brain barely registered.  He tried to draw into himself, but lacked the strength. His shoulder suddenly felt like it was on fire.

The tirade continued.  “I busted my ass to learn everything my brother knew, to be as good as he was.  I know I’m at least as smart, but…. _noooo_ ….he’s the one who gets to have any kind of life.  I worked just as hard, tried just as hard…but I’m _me_ , and he’s _Saeyoung_.  He gets to toss me aside and have a life, and I get to be the one who needs ‘ _behavior conditioning_ ’, _‘ _treatment’_  ,' _adjustment_ ' or 'cleansing_'.  Whatever the hell they want to call it.  It’s bullshit.  I’m not treating you any differently than they treated me, and I _damn sure_ tried harder to please them…worked harder to please them…than you or he have ever worked in your lives.”  Master seemed completely unhinged at this point, his eyes were wild green flames burning out of control.

Terrified and feeling nauseous, Yoosung tried to process the information that was just given to him. 

“Saeyoung?” he asked faintly, intrigued even as he was nearly consumed in pain, “who’s that?”

“ _Don’t ever fucking say that name to me._ ” Master shot back in a deathly cold voice.  Pulling back a balled fist, he landed a hard punch into Yoosung’s stomach.

“ _Uhhhgggg_ …” Yoosung groaned softly as he swayed from the force of the blow.

Already on the verge of throwing up, this last insult to his body was more than enough to send him over the edge.  With no means of turning away, cover his mouth, or take any other evasive action, Yoosung had no choice but to heave directly in front of him.  Vomit projected outward, and a significant amount of it found its way onto Master’s face and clothing.

“Oh. My. God.” Master sputtered as he staggered backward.  “That did NOT just happen.  _You disgusting little shit!”_

What happened next was nothing short of an explosion.  Grabbing a metal bar from the nearby rack, he took several swings at Yoosung, beating him like a piñata.  Mercifully, his arms were already exhausted from the rubber hose whipping, so while the blows were painful, they were not as devastating as they could have been had he been at full strength. 

Throwing the bar down, he dashed to the hand crank on the nearby wall, and cranked it until Yoosung was hanging even higher in the air; his toes dangling almost five feet from the ground.  Grabbing a release lever above the crank wheel, he pulled it back, releasing the chain and sending Yoosung free falling to the ground with a dull thud…

….accompanied with a loud _SNAP._

An ear-piercing scream echoed through the room, filling it like a flash of lightning.  Yoosung curled into the fetal position in a puddle of his own vomit.  His lower left leg was grotesquely misshapen. 

“Well, shit…” Master fumed breathlessly as he glanced at the obviously broken leg.

“You know what, you’re starting to become more trouble than you’re worth.  You might get your wish, after all.” He said stonily to the bawling, writhing, puddle of misery laying on the floor. 

Grasping the sobbing boy under the arms, drawing a shriek of pain from pulling against Yoosung’s newly dislocated shoulder, Master dragged him into his cell, depositing him on the makeshift bed.  He then locked the cage and began to leave, turning one last time before switching off the lights to stare at the injured boy, shaking his head as he struggled to figure out what to do with him.  Flipping the switch, the room went dark.  The metal door closed, and Yoosung was alone in the dark. 

Fiery fingers held his leg in a stranglehold, and any movement at all caused a horrific crunching sensation as the broken bones ground against each other in ways that were never intended in nature.  Similar pain gripped his shoulder.  He struggled to get onto his back, screaming with every inch of movement.  Once in position, the pain lessened a tiny bit. 

As he laid there, crying bitterly, he turned his bleary eyes to the tiny window at the top of the wall.  The last drops of sunlight colored the distant sky a deep indigo, and a single, tiny star flickered bravely in the empty sky.  For a long while, he stared at that star, seemingly alone in the cosmos.  Focusing on that tiny particle of light, he thought about _her_ …

 _Eleanora_.  His very own angel.

Was it possible that she was out there somewhere, looking at the same lonely little star?  Concentrating his thoughts on her voice, her words…he’d give anything to see her face, to know her features, to touch her, to taste her lips...

Somehow, remembering her sweet voice and her special way of knowing just what to say to make him feel so loved, so precious…

Once again, tears flowed freely, as he continued to focus on that tiny point of light, that lonely, but courageous little star, standing alone against the gulf of darkness around it.

As Yoosung lay, battered and broken on the floor of his cell, he repeated the only word that could possibly stave off some of his anguish.

“Eleanora…” he cried.  “Eleanora…”

“ _I love you_ …my Eleanora…”

Suddenly, a calmness overtook him.  Pain still wracked his body, but somehow it seemed distant and more manageable.  A warm, soothing, loving presence surrounded him, and he felt her with him.  He could almost feel her sweet embrace.  Closing his eyes, he could imagine being held and rocked gently in her arms. 

Slowly, exhaustion took over and Yoosung drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Until I Drown--Tears for Fears https://youtu.be/DmIW64Vyjzk
> 
> Sketches of Pain--Tears for Fears https://youtu.be/Khs6zzNe350


	13. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost 200 days since Yoosung's ordeal began, and things are becoming more and more erratic. After so many months of mistreatment, and now two serious injuries, how much more of this can Yoosung be expected to take?
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 13:  Mercy**

Day 199—November 23rd

* * *

 

2:45pm

 

Nearly two days had passed since Master left Yoosung laying in his cell, with a badly broken leg, dislocated shoulder and covered in his own vomit.  Yoosung sat against the wall of his cage, staring at the little window at the grey, overcast sky. 

He tried to focus on anything to distract from the searing, throbbing pain that gripped his leg.  It was sickening to look at—it was bent unnaturally midway between his knee and ankle, swollen to nearly twice its normal size, and a mottled mess of dark bruises, in every imaginable color.  His shoulder was not much better. 

The meager supply of food and water that was left for him from the last time Master was gone for a few days was nearly gone.  In times past, Yoosung had come up with ways to keep himself alive should Master ever leave and not come back, or leave him without adequate sustenance. 

This time, Yoosung had no intention of taking any extraordinary measures to ensure his survival.  He knew by now that nobody was coming for him.  He knew that this was it—this is what remained of his life. 

Not that he minded; after all, he had _chosen_ this route of his own free will.  There were many opportunities for him to choose another course, but this was the path he chose.  He was ready to complete his mission of dying for the girl he loved.  He only wished there was a way for him to be assured that, even after he was gone, that Eleanora would continue to be safe.  Of course, he knew that his friends in the RFA would watch over her, but that didn’t stop him from wishing that he could personally protect her.  The thought pierced his heart with sadness.

The faint, but growing, sound of footsteps made Yoosung tense up, causing pain to rip through his shoulder.  The metal door swung open, and Master entered with a large box.  Without a word, he approached the door of Yoosung’s cell, setting the box down while he fumbled with the lock.  Once inside, he sat the box next to Yoosung, kneeling down next to it.

“I’m going to put a splint on your leg,” he announced flatly.

Opening the box, he pulled out the materials and arranged them.  "This is going to hurt.  I don't have any painkillers for you, so I'll just do my best to work fast and get this done quickly.  You'll feel better once it's set and immobilized.  That's the best thing I can do for you right now."

He placed stiff wooden boards, wrapped in cloth, on either side of Yoosung’s broken leg.  The pressure and movement shot bolts of pain through the leg, causing Yoosung to throw his head back and hiss through his teeth.  Without stopping, Master began to wrap elastic bandages tightly around the splint, immobilizing the leg.  Yoosung bit his lower lip until it began to bleed.  As the splint was completed, though, the pain seemed noticeably lessened. 

Taking a deep, tremulous breath, Yoosung looked at Master, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, pet.  This is only so that you can resume your job of pleasing me.”  Master’s voice was cold and distant.

“I still appreciate it,” Yoosung said quietly, but sincerely.

“Whatever.  I don’t give a shit what you think.”  Master muttered as he put away the excess supplies.

“Then, _why do you do it?_   If my pain pleases you, why do you take measures to lessen it?”  Yoosung knew he was in treacherous territory in asking such a probing question, but since he had little left to lose, he wanted to at least try to unravel some of the mystery that has surrounded him in the past six months. 

He was pleasantly surprised when Master didn’t fly into a fit of anger.

Instead, he sat back and gazed at the floor, a blank look on his face.  “I...don’t know,” he said softly.  “I don’t know why I do...any of this.” He added, gesturing broadly around the room.  His face settled into a mildly grim expression.

“I’ve been hurt in ways you couldn’t begin to believe.  You think what you’ve experienced here is bad?  _You have no idea_ …”  His voice suddenly became distant, as if he were inwardly looking into his own past.

“What happened?”  Once again, Yoosung bravely waded into uncharted territory. 

Master shot a surprised glance at Yoosung.  “Do you really care?”

“Yes, I do.”

“ _Why do you care?_ That makes no sense.  Why the _fuck_ would you care about me?  I’ve done horrible things to you…you should _hate_ me!”  Master’s voice grew louder.

Cringing slightly, Yoosung was yet undeterred.  “I don’t hate you.  I’ve never hated you.”

“Liar…” Master snarled.

“I _swear_ I’m not lying to you.  _Why would I?_ I have nothing to gain from lying… _nothing_.” The sadness that permeated his words gave Master pause.

Several minutes passed in silence, as both men sat on the floor of the cell, both with very different thoughts in their minds.

Yoosung felt apprehensive, worried that he had gone too far.  Yet, he truly hoped that Master would open up to him.  Despite everything, he understood that Master was a broken person inside, and that the suffering he inflicted came from a place of even worse suffering.  It may be wishful thinking, but Yoosung felt compelled to try to do what he could do to help Master confront whatever it is that held him in such a dark place.

Just a few feet away, in stony silence, Master was deeply conflicted.  His ability to trust anyone had been completely and utterly destroyed many times over during the course of his life.  Part of him _wanted_ to trust Yoosung.  There was a pureness about him that both intrigued and infuriated him—try as he might, he had never been able to break or corrupt the clarity and innocence of this boy’s soul. 

Might it be possible that this seemingly weak, whiny, pitiful boy possessed an inner strength and capacity for love and forgiveness that went beyond Master’s comprehension? 

Master scoffed at the notion.  Nothing—absolutely _nothing_ —in his life experience suggested that anyone could ever be so selfless. His faith in humanity had been betrayed over, and over, and over again.  

If he had learned anything in his life, it was that _nobody_ was to be trusted.  Ever.

 

_Everyone has an angle—an ulterior motive—and, at the end of the day, it’s every man for himself._

_It always has been._

_Yoosung was lying when he said he had nothing to gain._

_What he was trying to gain was my trust…so he could gain an upper hand.  And then abandon me._

_Just like everyone else in my life..._

_Eventually, that's what they ALL do._

 

Rage slowly boiled over as Master’s irrational thoughts spun out of control.

“You lie.” He growled, his glare darkening.

 _“No…”_ Yoosung shook his head, his earnest, pleading gaze locked solidly onto Master’s face.

“You are very lucky that I don’t feel up to dealing out punishment right now, because I am not sure that I wouldn’t kill you with my bare hands if I did,”  Master stood up, purposefully kicking Yoosung’s splinted leg in the process, drawing a surprised yelp of pain. 

“Please…please, believe me…I only want to help!” Yoosung was still gasping in pain and surprise, and trying to figure out what had just happened between the two of them.

Master slammed the door to the cell shut and locked it.  As he turned to leave, he felt an odd sensation that he hadn’t felt in a long time.  A strange tightness gripped at his throat.  It hurt.  He tried to swallow it down, but it wouldn’t budge.  Then, a hot wetness stung his eyes, blurring his vision. 

For the many, many times he has shed tears in his lifetime, it had been a number of years since his hardened heart had allowed him to cry. 

Freezing mid-step between Yoosung’s cage and the door to the cellar, he spun around to address the shocked boy one last time, his voice cracking under the strain of the emotion he was furiously trying to suppress. 

“If you really want to help me, you can shut the fuck up and stop meddling in things you have no possibility of understanding.  You are a _pet_ , nothing more.  _Know your place_.” 

Taking a deep breath, he turned back toward the door.  Before taking another step, he continued, “You have overstepped your bounds, and you will be punished when I am ready—and when I decide what that punishment might be.”  The ominous darkness that invaded his voice caused Yoosung to shiver. 

The metal door slammed shut, leaving Yoosung alone in the waning afternoon light.

Shuddering again, a single thought cut through the bewildered chaos in his mind:

_What on earth have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any songs for this chapter.... :/


	14. Endgame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dangerous winter season is about to arrive in the highlands. Meanwhile, Yoosung's condition is rapidly deteriorating. Master is met with a dilemma.
> 
> **********
> 
> This chapter is part of '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles', written in October 2017 and added to the original version of '231 Days', which was written in July 2017. To see the original version of '231 Days', please see my series of the same name, in which you will find the original, standalone versions of both '231 Days' and '231 Days: The Darker Chronicles'.

**Chapter 14:  Endgame**

Day 228—December 22nd 

* * *

 

2:45am

 

The punishments were getting worse.  Master’s temper flared with increasing frequency and unpredictability.  One day, he would be all sweetness and light, the next he would be a one-man apocalypse.  There was no rhyme or reason as to what might trigger the next explosion.  It was apparent that Master’s already unstable mental state was on a downward spiral. 

It was equally clear that Yoosung’s condition was also deteriorating rapidly, both physically and mentally.  He had lost a disturbing amount of weight.  Fever intermittently ravaged his frail body, occasionally causing febrile fits.  His eyes—once a vibrant, sparkling amethyst—were now a faint, dull grey; sunken in, and ringed with dark circles. 

He was so, so tired. 

He no longer felt hope, but he also no longer felt fear, either.  He didn't feel much of anything.  He was just...tired. 

Tired of this existence.  All he wanted was for it to end.  For it to be over. 

He could feel his life draining, and that his death could not be very far away.  This was what gave him comfort—that, soon, he would have rest.

Yoosung lay still on the floor of his cell, shivering under the meager cover of a threadbare blanket, and stared at the little window.  The sky was particularly dark that night, and the one tiny star that had moved into his view in recent weeks seemed especially bright, like a sparkling sentinel.  As he watched the silvery starlight filter in through the window, he thought about a late night conversation he had with Eleanora, just a few days before …everything changed.  Forever.

On that night, he had been watching the night sky, and felt compelled to call her.  For so long, the stars in the sky had reminded him of sad memories, but on that particular night, all he could feel was bliss—because he knew that his precious Eleanora was under those very same stars.  The realization gave him such joy that he had to call her right away and tell her about it.  It was one of the last moments of unblemished happiness, as just a few hours later, he learned of the bomb in Eleanora’s apartment and the imminent danger she was in.

The tiny patch of night sky, and that one little star, were now a bittersweet mixture of joy and sadness. 

It was a tragic reminder of what was…and what might have been...no, what _should_ have been.  At the same time, he took great comfort in knowing that he still shared that tiny star with the girl he loved.

 _Eleanora_ …

The girl who taught him what it meant to truly love someone more than life itself. 

He was so happy to have had the chance to know that kind of love—and to have been able to give his life for it.

Had he the chance to do it all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing.  It was all worth it.  _She_ was worth it.

No matter how long this hell dragged on, no matter how unbearably tired he was, no matter how much he hurt as his body was battered and broken, it would always be worth it

_As long as she was safe…_

He knew his job was nearly done.  The end was coming.  This was something he simply knew intuitively, not unlike how the birds know when the seasons are about to change.

Master had largely ceased with the more elaborate, methodical activities and “games” of role play.  Most of his interactions with Yoosung were simple—and violent. 

The game was growing old, running its course, and neither of them could possibly keep it up much longer.  Yoosung knew this.

Yoosung welcomed the idea of the end. 

It meant an end to his relentless suffering. 

 

It meant rest. 

 

* * *

 

For Master—who, like Yoosung, was also lying awake, staring at the sky and thinking about what was coming next—“the end” presented an existential dilemma.  Back in the spring, when he had taken Yoosung and escaped to this remote, forgotten hideaway, he had lost everything and everyone he had depended upon.  His failure to protect his organization from being invaded by the RFA had ultimately resulted in its collapse.  Its disciples and operatives scattered to the four winds, he found himself abandoned—with nowhere to go, except for this tumble-down property set up to function as a hideout and a remote location to "re-train" errant disciples.  He had very limited resources, which by now were running dangerously low.  With the worst of winter just around the corner, he knew that they were not likely to survive the bitter cold and ferocious snowstorms that pummeled the mountains during the winter months. 

His options were limited.  If he were to make an escape, he would probably have just enough money to make a fresh start somewhere.  He could use his hacking ability to craft a new identity for himself, and disappear. 

_But, what about Yoosung?_

If he were to disappear into the woodwork, he couldn’t possibly bring Yoosung with him.  He was in terrible shape, and in need of a lot of care—he would be expensive and cumbersome.  Not to mention the tiny detail that he was a missing person who had been the object of a massive, and very public, search campaign.  Even with the passage of time and the changes in his appearance, it was likely that he'd be recognized by someone if he were moved from this place.

Despite the horrible way he was inclined to treat Yoosung, Master had actually grown fond of the boy.  He didn’t particularly _want_ to hurt him—it just happened.  He never could quite understand why he had been compelled to do such awful things to him over the last seven months...it was almost involuntary, as if it were an innate need that his body simply acted on for survival. 

However, there was a point of no return—which had long since come and gone.  There was no turning back, no undoing what had been done. 

Yoosung was most likely dying, and Master had a choice:  he could either stay on the mountain and die with him, or he could abandon Yoosung and save himself. 

Or…he could kill Yoosung.  Just a quick bullet to the brain… _pop_ …and it would all be over.  Quickly, easily…and mercifully.

Could he actually do it...pull the trigger? 

The choice was much harder than it should have been. 

And, this infuriated Master.

_Why was it so hard to think about getting rid of him?_

_Why did this boy have such an effect on him?_

He had never treated Yoosung any worse than he, himself had been treated.  He’d been abused, beaten, fucked with, and abandoned before—many times. 

Why was it so hard to come to terms with leaving this pitiful kid behind, or putting him down? 

He _wanted_ to die—he said so himself!  So why not just end him and be done with it?

_Why couldn’t he just end it?_

 

One moment, his heart would ache in a way that he had never known, for this precious soul who would not give up, no matter what horrible things were done to him. 

 _This boy_ …who loved so deeply, so consummately that he _knowingly_ and _willingly_ —even _eagerly_ —threw himself into this unending hell to protect a girl _he hadn’t even met in person_. 

 _This boy_ …who routinely showed him genuine compassion, despite every effort he had made to break him. 

 _This boy…_ who refused to be broken in mind and spirit, even as his body is violated and destroyed—possibly beyond repair.

 

The next moment, he would be consumed in rage. 

How could this pathetic thing, this…nobody…have such a stranglehold on him? 

 _He’s just a pet!_  

He’s weak and stupid—how much of a _hopeless idiot_ does one have to be to live this miserable existence for seven months…and not know when to quit? 

 _Why won’t he just give up?_  

What was it about _this boy_ that seemed to infect him like a disease?

Could it possibly be…

…that he _cared_ for this beautiful, tragic soul?

…that he saw something in _this boy_ that made him believe that maybe… _just maybe,_ there _is_ hope to be found, even in the darkest shadows of the world?

 

_NO!_

 

Master balled his fists until his knuckles turned white with fury.  His thoughts came in a raging rapid-fire. 

_He is not what he wants me to believe!  He’s just like anyone else, taking any advantage that he can._

_I will not let this pathetic kid take me down.  I’ve got to get out of here._

 

Slowly, a plan started to come together in his muddled, fractured mind. 

He would wait until Christmas, which was only a couple of days away.

He would spend a few more days with his pet, and allow him to have one last holiday.

Then he would make an escape, but not before giving Yoosung his final Christmas gift…

…a swift death from the barrel of a gun.

 

_Of course, a lot can happen in a couple of days…_


	15. As Long As She's Safe...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's now in the earliest hours of Christmas morning. Yoosung is finally beginning to lose his mind, after being strong for 231 days. Little does he know, however, that a certain extremely persistent (though a little inexperienced) hacker is only minutes away from discovering his location. 
> 
> Can he hold on that long?

**Chapter 15: As Long As She’s Safe…**

Day 231—December 25th

* * *

 

1:07am 

 

Yoosung shivered in his cage, mindlessly staring at the little window at the top of the wall, as the slightest hint of moonlight broke through the thick clouds to make its way into the otherwise pitch-black room.  It’s been over seven months since his capture, but the passage of time has long since became meaningless…as meaningless as his life:  his past, his future, his forgotten hopes and dreams.  None of it mattered anymore.

The only thing that gave Yoosung any clue about the passage of time (not that he particularly cared anymore), was the temperature…along with what little he could see through the tiny, bar-covered window high up in the cellar wall.  That window had become his favorite thing to look at, a focal point to distract him from his pain and misery.  He spent a lot of time just staring at it, trying to imagine what else besides grass and sky were on the other side of the glass and bars. 

When he first arrived at the farm cellar, which now seems like many lifetimes ago, the temperature was warmer, the grass was long and green; the sky beyond was bright, blue and clear.  He watched as the grass grew longer, thicker, greener, and then die down; the skies beyond giving up the cheerful blue for melancholy gray clouds.  Now, the grass was brown and dead, and the sky was dark and foreboding, with a distinct icy-sharp tang to the air, which penetrated the ground and the rocks—the walls of the cellar and the bars of his cage.

And…it was cold…so, so cold.  Yoosung’s breath was hanging in front of his face in a cloud.  As a little boy, he used to love making clouds with his breath on a cold day, but he had now come to hate the fleeting wisps of condensation.  They meant that he was still alive, still being forced to exist against his will, having Master’s pleasures ripped from his flesh. 

He’d give anything for rest...for the sweet nothingness of death to claim his broken body and shattered soul.  He had tried holding his breath until he passed out, but that only resulted in worsening his already pounding headache.  

 _He was so tired._  

Tired...of living…of breathing…of existing…of being….of hurting...of suffering. 

Each breath wracked him with pain—not only from the frigid air assaulting his lungs like a million icy needles— but from the whole-body effort it now took for him to draw each breath.  He hurt--everywhere.  He hurt so badly.  Pain was his constant companion, and made its presence known with every thought, every movement, and every agonized breath.  Pain was his only reality.

What he wouldn’t give to make it end? 

_Eleanora._

He'd give anything… _except her._

 _As long as she was safe_ …His thoughts broke into pieces…he could hardly maintain a coherent thought process anymore. 

No part of him had been left untouched or unscathed.  There were no secrets, no horrible sensation left to discover.  Every way a person could feel pain--physically, mentally, psychologically--he had experienced, he was certain of it. 

In his months of captivity in the cellar, Master had fully explored, claimed, and dominated every inch of Yoosung. 

At this point, he knew Yoosung’s body better than Yoosung did.  He knew exactly how to expertly extract the most beautiful and purifying pain and suffering from his beloved pet:  Where to strike, where to cut, where to apply electrical voltage—and where and how to touch him or stroke him to make him moan with ecstasy—against his will.  

 _That_ was the worst, the ultimate humiliation…to be betrayed by one’s own body. 

Of course, that was the most delicious thrill of all for Master, for it meant that he could not only control Yoosung’s suffering, but also his pleasure.  He owned this beautiful, broken boy completely—every precious, delicate inch of him. 

He had created and directed his own twisted symphony.  He played Yoosung’s body like a maestro’s instrument.  The music gave the master life—even as it took it away from the instrument itself.

It didn't matter.

_As long as she was safe…_

This was his never-ending world of torment.  The one thing that kept him sane was reminding himself why he was there….to protect the love of his life—to save her from a terrible fate by taking it onto himself. 

 _As long as she was safe_ , he could endure anything…and endure, he did...for so long.

Occasionally, he would offer Yoosung his freedom—with the condition that he would take Eleanora in his place.  Every time, without hesitation, he would choose all over again to stay. 

_As long as she was safe..._

In the beginning, he could at least get Yoosung to cry, but this became less and less frequent.  As time dragged on, Yoosung would usually just stare blankly ahead, dull, faded eyes fixated on some invisible, distant thing.  Sometimes, Master would get angry at “being ignored” and lash into an intense torture session, the kind that ripped from Yoosung screams that were loud enough to barely pierce through the soundproofing of the tumbledown old barn cellar.  Fortunately (for Master), this happened rarely, but not nearly as rarely as it was to see anyone in such a remote location.  It had been months since anyone had visited the remote property—hikers, hunters, search crews, or anyone else.  "Scream all you want, dog.  Nobody is around to hear you. _Nobody cares, and nobody is coming for you…ever."_  he would coldly tell Yoosung.

Despite everything, even in the moments he so desperately wished for death, Yoosung had never once lost hope completely.  He came waveringly, precariously, mind-breakingly close, but held on as tightly as he could to his love for Eleanora, and her love for him, which he could still feel across the miles, through the stone walls, and through all of the agonizing, soul-eviscerating suffering.  The mere thought of his love for her managed to pierce the darkness like a fireball streaking across the sky.  This is what kept him alive, and kept him from losing his grip on his sanity, no matter what Master did or said to him.

By now, Yoosung knew that, even if he did manage to ever get away, he would never be the same—he would always carry the scars and pain from his experiences here—in his mind as well as his body.  His skin was covered in sores, cuts, scars, bruises, and burns.  He had broken bones that had either healed incorrectly, or never healed at all.  He had lost so much weight that he was barely more than a skeleton. 

He knew that death couldn’t elude him for much longer; he felt its grip beginning to creep up on him.  He welcomed the idea of rest…of relief.  The promise of death was one of the only things that could bring the slightest hint of a smile to his face anymore. 

His only regret in facing his death was never getting to see his beloved Eleanora's face, to touch her, kiss her, to spend his life with her, to marry her, to have a family with her, and to make her feel his love for the rest of his life.  But, as long as she was able to live,  _as long as she was safe_ , everything—every cut, every bruise, every burn, every broken bone, every forced sexual encounter, every humiliation—it was  _worth it,_  all of it.  Every wordless scream, every tear, every drop of blood, every dark moment….. _worth it._   If he must forfeit his life and suffer for her sake, then it was a life well spent. 

_As long as she’s safe…_

As he sat in the freezing cell, curled up in his cage and shivering in the cold, a fever ravaging his frail body, the metal door clanged open and shut again, and the lights came on.  Yoosung cowered at the sudden sound and light shattering the silent darkness. 

_What time was it?_

_What did it really matter?_

“Merry Christmas, my beautiful pet!”  Master declared with a smile that was less unpleasant than usual.  “I couldn’t wait until morning……I’m here to receive my gift from you, and maybe give you a gift, too.  If you behave.”  He purred, as he shook the snow off of his shoes and coat, then proceeded to the kitchen to find something to eat for Yoosung.  In this rare moment, he was cheerful and feeling generous.

_Christmas._

Yoosung felt a hint of sadness tugging at his heart as memories of last year’s RFA Christmas party flooded his mind.  This would have been his first Christmas with Eleanora, the first of many, and they would have probably been attending the party at Jumin’s together that evening _…_

_If only…_

He pulled himself out of his reverie, reminding himself of his resignation.

That innocent boy is long, long gone, along with his past and his future.

His fevered delirium began to set his thoughts into a downward spiral and, for the first time, he truly felt himself begin to let go of reality. 

He didn’t try to fight it.  He didn't care anymore. 

As insanity crept in for the kill, instead of fighting it, he embraced it, and let it take him. 

Nothing mattered anymore.

 

_Master._

_My beautiful Master._

_He let me take her place._

_Master needs me, and I am here to serve him, so that she can live and be safe._

_My life means nothing outside of pleasing Master, so that she can be safe._

_As long as Master loves me, she will be safe._

_If I love Master, she will be safe._

_That’s all that matters._

_As long as she’s safe._

 

As his mind crumbled, he began to wail a long, primitive cry.  

_"MASTER!  Save me!  Help me, please!  Master....I...I...love you! I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me!  Please, have mercy and let me die!"_

As his breath ran out, he curled into a ball, heaving loud, gasping sobs.  

A tenuous, raspy voice, barely more than a whisper, continued.   _"I....I....can't do this anymore!  Just let me die, please!  Oh, God...please take me away from here!  I...c-can't....please...keep...Eleanora...safe....God, please!"_

Yoosung was sobbing, delirious, his body broken, his mind shattered like bullet-pierced glass, shards scattering all around him.

Surprised, Master opened the cage and stepped inside.  It wasn’t all that uncommon to find Yoosung a blubbering mess, but today he seemed a bit more unhinged than usual.  Lifting his head to look at his face, he noticed that Yoosung seemed shockingly pale.

Something was wrong. 

“Hey.  What’s going on with you?”  He asked, with an edge of panic rising in his voice.  Reaching down, he pressed the back of his hand against Yoosung’s forehead, which was damp with sweat, despite the near-freezing temperatures in the room.  He drew his hand back as quickly as if he had just touched a hot stove.  Yoosung was burning up with fever.

“Are you getting sick?   _Son of a bitch!_  What am I going to do with you?  We’re almost out of medical supplies, and there’s not enough money to buy more.  Why the fuck do you have to be so high-maintenance?” 

Panic gripped Master’s mind—along with a cascade of other feelings. 

Rage  _(How could he betray me and get sick like this!)_...

Anger  _(How could I let him get sick...he's my pet and my responsibility!)_ …

Fear  _(what if he dies?  I can’t live without him!)_. 

All of these emotions raced around his mind, but there could be only one winner by default…and it was fiery, white-hot rage. 

In his sick, twisted, fractured mind, it was as if Yoosung had gotten sick with the sole purpose of escaping him through his own death.  

Master felt like Yoosung had committed the ultimate betrayal.  

 _After all he had done for that boy!_  

_He should be grateful that he'd been allowed to live for so long!_

_He should be especially grateful that his precious Eleanora had been spared, along with the rest of the useless RFA idiots._

_He's just like everyone else...a liar and a traitor._

Within seconds, Master had the shaking, sobbing boy strung up from the ceiling hook.  He then ran the cables from the electric control box, and soon had the full count of leads clamped into Yoosung’s flesh...from his head to his feet. 

“Dance for me, dog!”  Master yelled, throwing the switch.  Yoosung’s body bucked and twisted on the chain as the electricity flowed through him.  Every muscle in his body clenched hard, and it felt like they might rip themselves to shreds under their own vicious contractions.  His eyes burned, every part of him burned.  He felt like he was being cooked from the inside.  He couldn’t scream; his jaw clamped shut, biting down on his tongue, which also burned with electric current.  It tasted sour. The only sound he was capable of making was a throaty “Ggghh…gggghh….ggghggghh…ghhhh”, as his body twitched and convulsed violently.  After several seconds, the switch was thrown again, and Yoosung’s body went limp, twitching slightly every few seconds.  His breaths came in shallow gasps.  The sharp odor of burned flesh singed the air.

Surprisingly, he had managed to stay conscious through it all.  Master approached him, his eyes cold and dark.

“If you are going to leave me anyway, I’m going to take everything I can from you before you can go.” 

Yoosung, still trembling from the after-effects of the electricity stared blankly at Master.

Something was different.  Something had changed.

Although he was still swimming in blinding waves of pain, he no longer seemed to be capable of processing emotion.  Struggling to focus, he made eye contact, but communicated nothing through his normally expressive gaze. 

His face betrayed nothing but indifference.

Then, something happened that had not happened a single time in the last seven months.  

Yoosung  _smiled_  at Master.  

Not his normal, genuine, happy smile.  This was an expression of...blankness...delirium...insanity.  

An odd feeling of unease crept over Master as he tried to interpret the strange shift in Yoosung's demeanor.  As he stood there, staring into what suddenly seemed the face of a stranger, a crazed giggle accompanied the creepy smile.  

The unearthly giggle quickly grew into full-blown, maniacal laughter from the feverish boy who had finally cracked.

Yoosung's body rocked against the chain above him as he continued to cackle uncontrollably. 

Finally, he slowed enough to speak.  “You can do whatever you want to me—anything you do now will only speed up my death.  Then you won’t control me anymore.  Either way, I win!  You can't control me forever.  Soon, I'll be free, and there's nothing you can do about it!” The words did not seem to be his own, and the voice didn’t sound quite human.  More hysterical laughter echoed off of the cellar walls.

The blood drained from Master’s face.  He staggered backward, not sure what to think. 

Something was very wrong here.

This wasn’t _his_ Yoosung. 

Was he possessed?

This violent, radical shift in Yoosung's behavior terrified Master.  For the first time, he was actually, truly afraid for Yoosung.  

Grabbing his coat and boots, he left Yoosung hanging where he was, while he hurried to his quarters at the farmhouse. 

Master’s head was spinning with conflicting thoughts.  He knew that he should have ended this game long ago.  It was almost too late to get out before winter arrived in full force.  There was no way he could save Yoosung, and now it seemed that his mind was finally gone.  

He had killed people before without batting an eye.  But, for some reason, the thought of killing Yoosung was more than he could bear.  It might be easier to just leave him in the cellar.  He'd eventually freeze or starve to death, but at least he wouldn't have to see it happen.  No, he couldn't handle the thought of that, either.  

Taking off his coat and gloves, Master buried his face into his hands.  He had no idea what to do.

He knew it was risky, but he needed to attempt to contact the outside world.  The fastest and most secure way to do this was to attempt to hijack Mint Eye’s servers as a sort of proxy.  He hoped that he could get through quickly enough that his tracks won’t be traced. 

Despite his organization falling apart, he knew the communications network still existed, and was still secure.  He had built it himself.  He had at least done one thing right.  If he could just get in touch with his Savior, the founder and leader of Mint Eye, there was a chance he could get help.  Maybe.  

He realized with a flash of terror that he could actually lose this boy.  _This boy…_ that he cared about. 

Why was he feeling this way?  He hated himself for being in such turmoil over what should be a simple, cut-and-dry thing.

He had threatened death many, times, but held back because he felt like that’s what Yoosung actually wanted.  Now, he desperately wanted to keep Yoosung alive, but for a very different reason:  He couldn’t imagine living without him. 

When did he allow _this boy_ into his heart?  How was this even possible?

It proved quite difficult to get a signal through the thick snowfall in the mountains.  He had tried several secure methods without success before deciding, in desperation, to take a risk and attempt to connect through less-secure means.  His gambit worked, and he was finally able to get a connection.  

 _Surely, at this hour, nobody is watching,_  he thought.  

He looked at the clock.  It was 2:17 in the morning. 

_It's Christmas morning...of course nobody will be watching, right?_

Little did he know, someone _was_ watching. 

At that exact moment, nearly 200 miles away, Eleanora was jolted awake in her apartment, her computer alerting her of the trace signal that had just fallen right into her lap....a Christmas miracle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Precious--Depeche Mode https://youtu.be/E5tURikGV2Q
> 
> Lithium--Evanescence https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJGpsL_XYQI  
> (instrumental piano version) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ch_3wDQziA
> 
> Show Me--Danny Elfman (from 50 Shades of Grey motion picture score) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkNdGAQqjKA  
> This song has this aura to it--like a building inevitability--that is hauntingly beautiful. Believe it or not, I have NOT seen the movie or read the book. I just like the music!
> 
> Other songs I listened to while writing this chapter:
> 
> My Chemical Romance:  
> Helena (So Long and Goodnight) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCCyoocDxBA  
> The Light Behind Your Eyes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76WJJ57YoG0


	16. By Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awakened by a premonitory dream, Eleanora realizes that time is running out for Yoosung. She decides, against Seven's advice, that now is the time to act--even if it means acting alone.

**Chapter 16:  By Daylight**

Day 231--December 25th

* * *

 

5:48am

 

_"I....I....can't do this anymore!  Just let me die, please!  Oh, God...please take me away from here!  I...c-can't....please...keep...Eleanora...safe....God, please!"_

Eleanora scrambled awake, tumbling from her bed and landing on the floor with a loud _thud_.  She sat on the floor, trembling, drenched in a cold sweat, the anguished words still echoing in her ears. 

She had seen Yoosung, and heard his desperate cries for help. 

A sense of dread and urgency overwhelmed her…he needed her, right now. 

She instinctively knew that his life was ebbing away.  Time was quickly running out.

_She had to go.  Now._

She had to go to the coordinates she had found.  It was the only chance she had to save him.

There was no time to contact Seven or Jumin or anyone else and try to convince them or get their approval. 

It was up to her...she had to try.

He was slipping away, and she had to get to him before it was too late. 

Eleanora packed her bags quickly, but carefully.  In one, she packed her personal effects:  a change of clothes, and various personal items.  In another, she packed a blanket, some first aid supplies, a flashlight, a knife, and a gun.  She packed anything she thought might come in handy as she struck out on her own to rescue Yoosung. 

 _“I'm on my way, baby.  Hold on just a little longer..."_    She breathed under her breath as she loaded the supplies into the back of the car that Seven had given her.  It was small, but nice…loaded with premium features, and—of course, being one of Seven’s cars—capable of going extremely fast. 

Seven had given her the car, a two-door Audi sports coupe--painted flat black with a midnight blue metallic racing stripe--as a means of getting around town once she was free to come and go from  ~~Rika’s~~ … _her_  apartment.  She absolutely loved driving it.  It was a million times nicer than any of the junkers she had owned and driven until that point in her life.  She remembered the warning Seven gave her on the day he handed her the keys.  _"This isn’t my fastest car, but it is really fast, so promise me you won’t drive it like a bat out of hell and get yourself killed, okie?”_  

Following the GPS coordinates given on the trace that she had found a few hours earlier, she set out for a long drive into the vast, rural mountainous region east of the city.  According to her GPS app, it would be just over a four hour drive through some rough terrain—especially once she arrived in the higher elevations, where heavy snow had just been falling.

It was the middle of the night, in the pre-dawn hours of Christmas morning, so the highway was almost completely deserted.  Against Seven’s cautions, she stretched the car’s legs, and comfortably completed most of the trip in just over three hours.  As the first blush of dawn began to tint the skies over the eastern peaks, she was arriving in the vicinity of the GPS coordinates from the trace.

 

* * *

 

10:26am

 

As the sun finally began peeking over the mountains, a gorgeous explosion of colors burst over the valley.  The warm, pink sunlight illuminated the mountains in a glorious violet mist—not unlike the color of her sweetheart’s beautiful eyes.  The snow-covered ground became alight with thousands of points of sparkle, like finely-ground diamonds.  She was getting close to the area, but the smaller roads she needed to travel were not mapped, making it increasingly difficult to find her way.

As she made her way further into the mountainous wilderness, Eleanora contemplated the task that lie ahead of her.  She was well aware of the dangers she was walking into.  She knew that she could be killed, or worse, get Yoosung killed.  She had to be careful of how she surveyed and planned her actions once she got there.  She already knew that this was an old, abandoned farm property with three buildings—a house, a barn, and a small outbuilding, which was probably a shed. 

She also knew from certain elements of the trace she intercepted that it most likely came from an underground source—which would explain why nothing had been found in previous searches of the place.  She almost missed this particular piece of information, as it was an extremely subtle marker on the trace codes and was only noticed after multiple analyses of the trace.  When she showed it to Seven, he dismissed it as “background clutter” on the trace.

As impatient as she tended to be, she knew that she would have to be very cautious and methodical in her approach.  One move in haste, and it would be over.  _Failure was simply not an option._

The recent snowfall had made many of the remote roads impassable.  Very few, if any, permanent residents lived in this area during the winter months, so the roads were completely untouched; many were completely hidden under thick snow drifts.  Some of the drifts were taller than the roof of the car, and a few were almost as tall as Eleanora, herself.  The car was powerful enough to plow through some of the drifts, but Eleanora was forced to get out and clear the roads by hand for the larger drifts, consuming precious time.  She kicked herself for not thinking ahead and anticipating this problem; as prepared as she tried to be, it never occurred to her to bring a shovel or anything that could be used to move the snow out of the way.

* * *

 

2:29pm 

 

After several exhausting hours of backbreaking effort, Eleanora finally arrived at the outer fence line of the farm.  The original fence around the property was all but gone, lost to time and neglect.  Only a line of rocks and the occasional random, worn fencepost gave any indication that a fence had ever been there.  She parked the car behind a grove of evergreen trees a hundred yards or so from the farm boundary, well out of sight from any of the buildings.  She then covered it with a large tarp to keep away snow and ice that could slow a quick getaway. 

Hopping the remains of the fence, she sprinted across the field—most likely used to house goats or dairy cows in another lifetime—and approached the buildings at the farm site.  She examined the house first.  It was very run down, but obviously built well.  There were no obvious signs of anyone living there, but she knew better than to go inside before completing a more complete investigation.  The barn was in much worse shape, with parts of the roof fallen in, broken windows, and boards fallen out of the walls. 

The shed, however, seemed to be a newer construction than either of the two other buildings.  It was sturdy and in good shape, comparatively speaking.  It also had a lock on the door.  Eleanora thought this was odd, as the other two buildings were clearly open and free for anyone to walk in.   _What’s in that shed?_ Eleanora thought, butterflies rising in her stomach.   _Did the search parties check inside?_  

Hiding in a small alcove behind the shed—most likely used to store firewood—Eleanora shed her bulky winter parka.  She then reached into her equipment bag and pulled out her “Mission: Impossible” gear—a pair of thick, but close-fitting black insulated pants and thick, black hoodie, and a black scarf to cover her face and head.  Working in the high-altitude cold, it was important that she wear clothes that were lightweight and that allowed for free movement, but were also insulated and warm.  It was a nice plus that the outfit gave her the appearance of a badass secret agent.  There was just enough bulk to her outfit to obscure her body shape, which made her gender difficult to determine.  This was an important detail she had included in her plan; she did not want to risk any potential for complications that might arise from her identity being discovered.  The fewer details she gave away, the better—at least for the time being.  She pulled her long, brown hair into a ponytail and tucked it into the back of her sweater.  She then wrapped the thick, warm scarf around her head and neck--covering her nose and mouth--and tucked the ends into her hoodie.  Finally, she pulled the hood over her head, and tightened the strings.  All that could be seen of her face was her eyes.

Both Unknown and Yoosung knew what her voice sounded like, so it was important that she do something to disguise it.  During the long drive, she had practiced her go-to theatrical voice—a rich, low voice with a thick accent.  She had learned several fake voices in high school drama club, and this one was her favorite.  She had used a version of it in her award-winning performance as Beatrice in _Much Ado about Nothing_.  With some practice, she had managed to tweak it such that it sounded like it could be male or female. 

The more she could obscure her identity, the better.

 

* * *

 

3:15pm

 

Surveying the area once more, she felt pretty confident that the shed was the access point for the underground area, but she couldn’t be too sure until she got closer.  Moving quickly and stealthily, she rounded the perimeter of the farm.  A distant sound of a squeaky door froze her in her tracks.  Diving into a nearby overgrown shrub that was once part of the farm’s landscaping, she watched as a young man with whitish hair leave from the backdoor of the farm house. 

The man was wearing a long, black coat, and was glancing around frantically as he made his way from the house to the shed.  His heavy boots crunched in the snow with each step.  He paused at the door, fishing out a key from his pocket.  He dropped it into the snow.  Cursing and beating both fists into the sides of his head, he fished the key from the snowdrift.  He then opened the padlock, removed it, and entered the shed.  The door swung shut behind him, and she could hear the padlock engage with a soft “click” from inside. 

 _So, that’s it_.  She whispered to herself.  Her heart was racing.  

 _This is it, He’s got to be in there somewhere, and that guy is the one who has him_.  

She wondered how on earth this was missed by the so-called “expert” search and rescue teams who had supposedly combed the area months ago.

Reaching into her pocket, she felt the cold, hard steel of her gun.  

 _This guy has no idea I’m here.  I could put a bullet in his brainpan and be done with it._   She gripped the gun, running her finger over the safety switch to ensure it was engaged.  She had never been completely comfortable with handling guns, but she could be a decent shot if the situation ever required it. 

 _What if there is someone else here?  It’s not worth the risk._   Until she knew if she was outnumbered, staying under the radar is the best way to go for now.  Besides, the recent heavy snowfall on the nearby peaks raised the very real concern of avalanche in the event of any loud noise or vibration.  

Firing the gun might only serve to ensure that everyone dies.

No, the gun is for an extreme last resort.

 

* * *

 

3:30pm

 

Once the coast was clear, she resumed her close, covert examination of the property.  As she approached the barn, she heard a distant, stifled scream, barely perceptible and only audible because of the completely silent winter landscape.  Her stomach jumped into her throat as she heard the screaming continue—a desperate, pleading wail:   _“PLEASE, MASTER!  I’M SORRY FOR WHAT I SAID!  PLEASE!  I’LL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT!  PLEASE STOP!”_

She knew that voice.

There was no doubt...it was him.

_Yoosung..._

_Oh God._

Her heart imploded as panic took over.

 _My sweetheart...what do I do?  Where is he?_ Tears threatened as a stampede of thoughts swarmed her brain, clouding her judgement and threatening to consume her.  Eleanora managed to shove them down.  This was no time for panic.

 _Anger is my friend_ …she whispered to herself, tempering her nerve with white hot rage. 

Her love was nearby, and someone was hurting him.  As fury seared through her like an electric current, her senses sharpened, and her mind cleared as she refocused her energy to the task at hand.  

Another voice cut through the silent, cold air:  “HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME CARE FOR YOU!  YOU INFECT ME LIKE A DISEASE!  _YOU WILL NOT CONTROL ME_ —NOT NOW, NOT EVER!  WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?  THIS ENDS, NOW.  IT’S OVER.  DO YOU HEAR ME, BOY?”

The tirade was quickly followed by another series of screams. 

Eleanora was rattled, momentarily faltering in her focus, but she took a deep breath and continued her search.

Looking around, she noticed that a portion of the barn’s lower wall along the north side was made of stone instead of the broad wooden planks that most of the barn is built from.  In this section of wall made from stone, a small window, covered with rusty, iron bars, sat near the ground, almost completely obscured by dead grass, leaves and snow.  Crouching down on her belly and scooping away the snow and debris, Eleanora moved close to the window and peered inside. 

It was some kind of cellar, built directly under the old barn of stone, brick and concrete.  While the ground level portions of the barn were dilapidated and falling down, this portion was sturdy masonry and perfectly sound.  Very likely, this was an old underground creamery.  These were built in the days before electricity and refrigeration, because underground cellars would maintain a consistent cool temperature year-round that would keep food and dairy products from spoiling. 

She pulled some of the tangled dead grass and leaves from the bars covering the window, and used her sleeve to clear some of the dirt from the glass.  Peering through the window again, she barely was able to make out a figure.  There was someone in the dim room below.  Eyes strained to see…a blonde boy, hands bound over his head, suspended from the ceiling. 

Her heart stopped.

_It was Yoosung._

She had finally found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Show Me the Way--Moya Brennan https://youtu.be/xWNbKnr0O1w
> 
> I Will Find You--Clannad https://youtu.be/_CI7Fo4p0v8
> 
> Theme from The Bodyguard (1992 Motion Picture Score)--Alan Silvestri https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojD0IlAE2eo


	17. Breaking the Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, and against all odds, Yoosung has been found. Now Eleanoa must get him to safety, but unexpected complications arise, making this a difficult and dangerous mission.

**Chapter 17: Breaking the Spell**

Day 231--December 25th

* * *

 

3:35pm

 

Pulling off the scarf covering her face, Eleanora vomited into the nearby snowy grass, heaving until her gut was sore. 

She had just seen her love, the treasure of her heart, strung up by his wrists by a chain, dangling on his toes, as the white-haired guy repeatedly flogged him with a whip. He also held a knife in his hand, and the evidence of its use was apparent in the multiple bleeding cuts on Yoosung's chest and back.  Streaks of blood crisscrossed his skin; soaking into the fabric of his tattered jeans, which were ripped at the knees. 

The white-haired guy laughed cruelly, grabbed a bucket of water, and threw it on Yoosung, causing him to shriek in shock, and his body to convulse wildly.  He screamed again, making Eleanora’s blood curdle.

 _No--that wasn’t water._   The unmistakable, sharp odor that wafted up to her nostrils confirmed that it was actually rubbing alcohol.  Yoosung shuddered, whimpering and sobbing as the cold, clear, acerbic liquid bit into his raw, broken skin with the fury of a thousand white-hot needles.  With a gasp and a shudder, his head lolled forward and his body went limp as he fainted, his senses overloaded.

 _“Again?!_   ...fucking pathetic...” sneered his tormentor, “I’d have thought...he’d have toughened up at least....  ...getting.... fucking old.  ....just about done...”  Eleanora couldn’t quite hear the voice, but she pieced together bits and pieces of what he was saying by reading his lips and expression.  He carefully cleaned and put away his equipment, then picks up his coat. 

 _Is he about to leave?_   The madman tossed his coat back down again, and walked over to his helpless prisoner. 

Grasping a handful of blond hair—now noticeably longer, duller and faded in color, with several inches of his natural brown color grown in at the roots—he yanked Yoosung's head roughly back to look at his face: his eyes were closed, and his face wore an expression far too relaxed for what was just done to him.  Releasing the grip on Yoosung’s hair, causing his head to drop lifelessly onto his chest, the madman sighed loudly, shaking his head.  “Pathetic fucking weakling,” he muttered, as he returned to his coat, put it on, and headed for the door. 

Eleanora slipped silently around the corner of the barn, and waited.  Her breath hung close in the air, and she willed herself to be completely still. 

Silence—the kind of silence that is so oppressive that one can hear the roar of blood rushing through the tiniest capillaries in the ears—pervaded Eleanora’s senses as she sat perfectly still.

Soon, she heard the click of the padlock, the creaking of the opening shed door, the door swinging shut, and the lock being replaced.  The madman walked away, muttering something angrily, but Eleanora couldn’t decipher it or read his lips because he was walking away from her position. 

Eleanora watched through her binoculars as he disappeared into the farmhouse, the back door slamming shut behind him.  Through a small window by the door, she saw him enter another doorway inside the house, then descend some stairs. 

 _So the house must have a basement, too,_ Eleanora thought. With both underground areas hidden and secured, that would explain why searches turned up nothing.  Basements were not common in this region, so the searchers wouldn't necessarily know to look for them.

Eleanora was beginning to feel like this guy was a lone wolf, but she still wasn’t quite confident enough to tip her hand and make her presence known just yet…despite her desperate, urgent impatience.

 

* * *

 

3:41pm 

 

It was getting late in the afternoon; the sun was already beginning to hide behind the high mountains to the west.  It would be getting dark in the next hour.  Time was growing very short to move by the safety of daylight. 

Eleanora wondered how long the man would be gone, and was briefly tempted to break the lock on the shed and get inside.  Despite her overwhelming urge to get in there as quickly as possible, she knew she mustn’t act in haste, which could have disastrous consequences.

Silently as a cat, she dashed back over to the window, and looked down at her sweetheart.  He was still hanging, unconscious, from the chain.  Completely helpless.  Looking closely, she saw how frail and thin he was.  He was covered in wounds—cuts, burns, lashes, and sores.  His right shoulder appeared to be dislocated, causing him to hang in an odd, and very painful looking angle.  His left leg wore a crude splint, but there was an obvious and unnatural deformation below the knee, suggesting that it was badly broken. 

She had tried to prepare herself for whatever she might find, but there was no way she could have been prepared to see her precious Yoosung so utterly shattered. 

 _My poor, sweet angel,_  she thought as her throat tightened. 

_He would not have suffered like this if it weren't for me._

Once again, a sick feeling of helplessness washed over her like a tidal wave. 

 _What do I do?_   She thought frantically, as panic threatened once again.

_I have to get to him.  Now._

Common sense chimed in:  ** _NO._** _I have to plan this carefully—if I act impulsively and mess this up, neither of us will have a chance._

_Nobody else knows that he is here._

_Nobody else knows that_ I’m _here!_

So afraid of someone trying to stop her, she didn't send a message, leave a note at the apartment, or do anything else to let anyone know where she was going.  She had even turned off her phone as she was leaving the apartment.  Even though Seven promised to get some sleep, she was fairly certain that he had no intention of doing so.  In case he was tracking her phone, she intended to keep it turned off, at least until she had put enough miles between her and the city that he couldn't catch her before she had a chance to get to the site of the trace.  However, she never remembered to turn the phone back on. 

In retrospect, she realized that trying to hide her tracks might have been a stupid decision, with possibly dire consequences.

 _I've got to call Seven,_ Eleanora thought as she grabbed her phone, her quaking fingers fumbling the buttons as she tried to power it on.  Once the screen came to life, she tried to open the RFA messaging app.  It got stuck on the loading screen, and then a box popped up:  “No Connection, Try again later”

Next, she tried calling each member of the RFA.  Of course, with no signal, the calls couldn’t go through. 

Closing her eyes, Eleanora took a deep breath. She was on her own.  Yoosung’s life was in her hands. 

He had sacrificed himself to protect her…now it was her turn to do whatever she had to do to save him--the boy she loved with every fiber of her existence. 

 

* * *

 

3:47pm

 

Presently, she heard the now-familiar creaking of the farmhouse door.  The white-haired madman emerged with a large, black duffel bag, and walked quickly to the shed.  Setting the bag on the ground, he once again fumbled with the key, removed the lock, opened the door, and disappeared inside with his bag. 

He appeared to be in a hurry, and he seemed to be having a rather heated argument with himself.

Eleanora, listening carefully from her perch behind the barn and next to the window, noticed that she did not hear the click of the lock from inside the door after it closed.  

 _If he left that door unlocked, this could be my chance to get inside, s_ he thought to herself.

Eleanora paused by the window and waited for him to enter the room.  Sure enough, the large metal door opened, and the man appeared with the black duffel. 

Yoosung appeared to still be unconscious.  The man set the bag on the floor by the table, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a vial of what looked like a light-colored, powdery substance.  For a moment, he held the bottle in his hand, stared at Yoosung, and heaved a big sigh. 

_Why was he looking at him like that?_

Opening the tiny bottle, he held it under Yoosung’s nose…smelling salts, Eleanora suspected.  Yoosung’s head jerked away from the vial, but the man followed his nose with it.  Yoosung flinched and jerked away again…and again…and then began coughing uncontrollably as he started to wake up. 

Slowly lifting his head, he seemed dazed as he attempted to stand on the toes of his working leg.  His face contorted in pain, but he remained alert and was watching his captor closely as he rummaged through the bag again.  Yoosung seemed to say something, but since he barely moved his lips, Eleanora could not read them.

It seemed like the madman was distracted, so Eleanora made her move.  For better or worse, it was time to get this show on the road.  There was no more time to wait. 

She was certain enough now that this guy was by himself, and she prayed that she would be able to handle him on her own.

She dashed for the shed door, which was, indeed, unlocked, and she ducked inside.  The inside of the shed was dark, save for the light that came through a small window opposite of the door. 

The shed was largely absent of anything interesting, but there appeared to be a small trap door in the floor, fairly well-hidden by a burlap mat.  If she hadn't been looking for it, she would likely have missed it.  Pulling off the mat, cleverly held in place with several magnets, she placed her ear against the metal door, listening for any activity. 

Silence. 

She slowly lifted the door open, revealing a ladder that went down into darkness, with a small light at the bottom.  Descending the ladder, she found herself at the end of a short hallway.  Various old crockery and rusted metal cans lined the passageway.  Everything was coated with many years of dust and cobwebs.

A large metal door stood imposingly at the other end of the passage.  Quickly and silently, Eleanora made her way to the door.  It seemed extremely old and rusty, and the lock didn’t appear to be anything sophisticated.  In fact, the lock didn’t seem to be engaged.  There was a small window near the top of the door. 

Taking a small mirrored compact from her pocket, she positioned herself under the window with her back against the door.  She then held the mirror above her head, aiming the reflection downward.  Using the mirror like this to minimize her chance of being detected, she peered into the cellar.

The madman was sitting at the table, drinking something from a can.  From his posture and movements, he seemed agitated.  

Yoosung still hung from the chain, and was staring forlornly at the man, who seemed to be savoring his drink...possibly beer?

The white-haired man quickly downed the canned beverage.  Immediately, he opened another one from the six-pack sitting on the table.  He still seemed to be arguing with himself, and occasionally spoke to Yoosung, who gave quiet, short answers. 

Eleanora wished she could hear what they were saying, but she could only catch a word here and there through lip reading…which was not one of her best skills.

 _What was he fiddling with?_   It was so hard to see much through a tiny mirror looking through a tiny window, but she could tell he was toying with something in his hands.  Finally, he laid the small, black object down on the table, and Eleanora saw what it was. 

It was a gun _._

 _Oh God._  

That realization was followed quickly by another one:  The huge, black duffle bag on the floor?  It was a body bag _._   

 _Oh God...  Was he getting ready to kill Yoosung?_  

His self-dialogue seemed to indicate that he was torn on whether to do it. 

Yoosung was just quietly watching.  He occasionally shifted his weight to keep from pulling on his wrists, but otherwise, his face held a distant, indifferent expression.  As if he was resigned to his fate and was just waiting to get it over with.

The white-haired guy continued to intently discuss the pros and cons of killing his prisoner. 

From what bits and pieces of monologue she could pick up, it seemed that he was thinking of disappearing and starting over, but was torn on what to do with Yoosung.  If they both stayed on the mountain, they would both die; they didn’t have the resources to make it through a harsh mountain winter.  He didn’t seem to want to leave Yoosung, but he couldn’t take him along in his current condition.  He was considering whether to end him quickly with a bullet, or to simply leave him to die in the cellar.

From the way he was acting, it was clear that he didn't like any of his options.

Then, a miracle happened.  In the midst of white-hair guy’s debate with himself, he yawned.  It was only a couple of minutes before he began to nod off. 

Yoosung, still watching him with a sad, vacant look on his face, yawned too.  He winced, then shifted his weight once again.  He looked so miserable, like someone who was long past the point of giving up.

The man at the table nodded off again, nearly falling out of his chair. 

With another yawn, he slowly stood up, stretched, and looked down at the gun on the table. 

Pressing his hands to his eyes, he shook his head, as if trying to clear out unwanted thoughts.

 

* * *

 

4:00pm

 

“I’m going to take a nap.  I don’t have to decide anything right this minute.  I’ll be back later.”  Master announced to Yoosung, as he slowly walked towards the door.

_“Oh, shit…”_

Eleanora panicked, almost dropping the mirror in her hand.  Dashing to the far end of the corridor, she crouched behind some wooden barrels in the shadows.  Holding her breath and sitting absolutely still, she watched as the man ascended the ladder, closed the trap door behind himself, and exited the shed. 

Waiting a few minutes to make sure he was gone, Eleanora made her way back down the corridor to the big metal door. 

It was now or never. 

Grasping the severely rusted bolt, Eleanora pulled.  With a sharp, metallic crack, the bolt came loose—broke off in her hand, actually.  With a push, the door creaked open. 

Despite her efforts to keep quiet as she entered the room, the door creaked louder the further she pushed it.  Once she was inside, she lost her grip on the door, and it swung shut behind her with a loud _bang_. 

The sound caused Yoosung to instinctively startle, then tense up.  He was facing away from her, but she could hear his rapid, jagged breaths as he shivered violently.

Slowly, she approached, circling around to face him as she softly spoke his name.

_"Yoosung?"_

Her voice trembled, but otherwise, Eleanora was spot-on with her theatrical voice.

He froze when he heard the sound of his name for the first time in months, and realizing that the person who entered the room was not Master.

“…W-who are you?” he asked timidly, a mixture of fear and bewilderment etched across his tearstained face.

Eleanora’s mind reeled as a series of intense emotions overwhelmed her. 

She had found him. 

After all of this time, she had finally found Yoosung. 

Her eyes burned as tears threatened, and she felt momentarily paralyzed as she fought the incredible urge to reveal her identity, run to him, take him into her arms, and…

 _…Stop it, stop it, stop it!!!_   Eleanora angrily screamed at herself internally. 

_**Do not** blow your cover!  _

_Don't you dare!_

_Not now, not yet!_

Clenching her fists and shaking her head almost imperceptibly, she fiercely willed herself to clear her head and stay in character. 

Mustering her false voice once again, despite the lump sitting obstinately in her throat, Eleanora calmly responded to Yoosung’s question.

“Who I am doesn’t matter right now.  What matters is that I’m here to rescue you.  Everything else can be explained later.  We don't have much time, so we have to move quickly."

She stepped toward him, examining the chain, the hook at the end, and trying to figure out the best way to free him from it.  “I'm pretty sure I can get you down from there, but I might need….”

She was cut off by Yoosung’s sudden interjection. “B-but…I-I can’t.  I can’t leave this place.  Please...you have to leave me here.”

Eleanora stopped in her tracks, taken aback by his response.  Why would he say this? 

"What?" The word squeaked out before Eleanora could process her shock, almost blowing her cover.

She took another step, so that she stood directly in front of him.  Looking up into his thin, pale, bruised face, she insisted, “Yes, you can.  You have to.  You’ll die if you stay here.  Why do you think you can’t leave?” 

“If...if I leave him...he'll hurt the girl I love…I have to stay here to protect her.” his voice trembled as he explained.

Eleanora instantly felt her chest tighten at his declaration—once again—that he willingly _chose_ his own suffering...and imminent death...for her sake. 

Through sheer willpower, she once again shoved down the lump forming in her throat.  

“She must be pretty special to you if you’d rather stay here than risk any harm coming to her…”

“She is.  Her name is Eleanora, and she’s worth all of this.  Worth dying for.”

Eleanora cleared her throat, desperately trying to keep her voice from breaking.  “I bet she’s missing you something terrible.”

“I miss her too,” he said quietly.

Fumbling rapidly through her thoughts, Eleanora attempted to reassess her strategy.  Should she reveal herself?  How would he react?  She had no idea.  Ultimately, she decided that it was best to stay the current course; she needed to avoid as many surprises and wild cards as possible.  

Making a slight adjustment to her tactic, she asked, “If I can _guarantee_ you that she will be safe, will you come with me right now?”

Yoosung slowly shook his head, lowering his gaze to the ground.  “It’s too late for me.  Please, just leave me here.  If you know Eleanora or if you see her, please tell her I love her with all of my heart, and that I want her to move on with her life and find happiness,” a single tear slid down his cheek as he spoke. "...and tell her that it was my greatest honor to make this sacrifice for her."

Eleanora's heart lurched, almost painfully.

_Oh..._

_My sweet...precious...angel._

Her vision blurred with hot, stinging tears.  Damn, this was getting _really_ hard. 

Looking away for a moment, Eleanora bit her bottom lip behind her scarf and blinked away the tears, desperately trying to keep her emotions in check.  

A small ripple of panic bubbled up in the pit of her stomach as she realized that this was not going to be as simple as she had hoped.

“What’s it going to take to convince you to come with me?” she said, redoubling her efforts to maintain her acting voice, which had begun to waver.

“I’m sorry.  I just…I can’t.  If I leave now, everything I’ve been through so far will be for nothing.  _I have to protect Eleanora_.”  As he spoke, his words grew more and more emphatic.

Eleanora’s voice rose as her trepidation increased.  Fear threatened every ounce of her resolve as panic set in.  “ _What are you talking about,_ Yoosung?” she demanded.  Yoosung’s head lifted and his eyes widened at the shift in her tone. 

Eleanora continued, “ _You were kidnapped by a crazed madman_.  Thousands of people have busted their asses over the last seven months looking for you.  After all this time, I’ve finally found you, and now you’re telling me that you ‘ _can’t leave’_?  This guy has you brainwashed!  Please, you have to snap out of it, and come with me now, or else...or...or else...” she faltered, her words lost in the dizzying swirl of panicked frustration that inundated her mind. 

She couldn't stand to think of the " _or else."_  

 _"Or else"_ meant failure. 

It meant losing Yoosung forever. 

It meant the end...game over. 

It meant _death_.

Eleanora took a deep breath, calming herself down a bit, before continuing in a softer tone, “Listen to me, sweetie…this guy… _he can’t hurt Eleanora_ , and I’ll tell you why:  He is an outcast and a fugitive...on the run, hiding in the mountains, with _no_ resources or financial support available to him, whatsoever.  Mint Eye has all but collapsed, and he is totally on his own.  He doesn’t have the capability to get through the winter.  If he can’t even take care of _himself_ , how on earth could he possibly be able to do anything to Eleanora or anyone else?  _Don't you see?_ He's controlling you with _fear_ , because that's the only card he has left to play.  Please, _please_ believe me...and come with me.  _I have to get you out of here.”_

Having to use ‘tough love’ talk with him when she’d only just found him broke her heart, but she needed him to snap out of it and cooperate, or all of this would have been for naught.

 _“You do want to see her…right?”_   she said softly, her voice almost strangling on the tears she was trying so hard to hide.

“Yes... _I’d give anything_ …” His voice broke into a small sob as he answered her.

At the risk of her identity being found out, Eleanora stepped in close, tilting her head to look Yoosung straight in the eyes.  Hesitating for a second while she tried unsuccessfully to fight the urge to touch him, she raised a gloved hand and placed it gently on his cheek.  His eyes closed at the tender touch, and he instinctively leaned his head into her hand.

It took every ounce of willpower in Eleanora's being to keep her voice stable.  “Yoosung, _I promise you this:_  Eleanora is safe, and she’s waiting for you right now.  She needs you..." Eleanora swallowed thickly, then took a deep breath, "… _she needs you_ to come home to her.  You've been so brave and strong for all of this time.  All you have to do is be brave just a little longer, and come with me, okay?”

Yoosung didn’t answer verbally, but there was a distinct shift in his expression as he listened to Eleanora's words.  All of a sudden, hope flickered in his eyes like the tiniest of candle flames.  It created a sensation in his heart that he had long forgotten.  He suddenly felt a renewed strength.

“Just help me get you down from that chain.  Can you lift yourself up a bit with your good leg?” Eleanora held her arms out, ready to help him.

Yoosung nodded, “I-I think so.” 

Eleanora carefully wrapped her arms around him to steady him as he shifted his weight and slowly pushed himself upward with the toes of his uninjured leg.  Once there was enough slack, Eleanora carefully pulled the clip holding his wrist cuffs together over the tip of the hook, freeing him from the chain.  His arms, still bound at the wrists, fell limply around Eleanora's neck.  

Without the support of the chain, and lacking the strength to carry his own weight on his legs, Yoosung immediately collapsed.  Together, they sank to the floor, Eleanora carefully trying to ease his fall to avoid jostling his injuries.  A pained grimace etched into his face as he groaned through gritted teeth. 

“I’m sorry, I tried to keep you from falling too hard,” Eleanora said, fighting the urge to hold him in a way that would betray her real identity.  Reaching into her supply bag, she grabbed a wool blanket and pulled it around Yoosung’s shoulders to protect him from the cold.

“I-I’m okay…I think…” his thought was disrupted by the heart-stopping sound of yet another slam of the metal door.

 

* * *

 

4:20pm

 

“ _What_ the actual FUCK?”  Master's voice boomed through the cellar.  Eleanora felt every muscle in Yoosung’s body go rigid. 

“Oh no, _oh no, no, no…”_   he whispered frantically, his body trembling as he curled into the fetal position.  Eleanora couldn’t help it any longer—she wrapped her arms around him protectively, placing one hand against his head, gently drawing him close to her.

“Shhh…It’s okay, sweetie.  I’ve got you,” she said softly into his ear.

“ _No...no…what have I done…I’m so scared…”_ Yoosung stammered softly into her shirt.  It was gut-wrenching to see him so terrified.

“You’re okay, baby.” Eleanora whispered.  Yoosung's face nuzzled into her shoulder as if he were trying to hide. 

Eleanora realized that she needed to choose her words more carefully if she wanted to avoid giving herself away.

Master stood in front of them, staring down at them with a look that could shatter glass.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he growled at the mysterious figure dressed all in black, who was crouching on the floor holding and comforting his plaything—all wrapped up in a blanket.

“Who, me?  Why, I’m just here to pick up Yoosung.  He’s had a _lovely_ stay in your little dungeon, but he’s ready to go home now,” Eleanora deadpanned, with perhaps a little too much sarcasm and bravado.

Her arms were still wrapped protectively around Yoosung, who was shaking violently in terror, his eyes now fixed on the figure standing in front of them. 

“Master, I told them to leave me alone.  I told them you’d be angry.  I didn’t want to make you angry.”  His last words dissolved into sobs.   _“Please don’t punish me again!”_   He shook uncontrollably as he cried out in despair. 

Eleanora’s heart shattered into pieces, as she continued to cradle her broken angel, who still had no idea who she really was.  Once again, her hand instinctively moving to the side of his head, gently stroking the faded blonde hair that fell almost to his shoulders.

 _Be strong, Eleanora,_  she thought to herself,  _he needs you to be strong for him now, more than ever, or it's all over._

“You. Whoever you are.  Leave him alone.  He’s mine, and you can’t have him.”  Unknown spoke with a slight slur.  He took a couple of steps forward, the persisting influence of alcohol causing him to stumble slightly.

“Umm _… **no**._   He is most definitely _not_ yours... _ **you sick fuck**.”_   Her voice grew louder and darker as thick, seething rage bubbled up inside her. 

Anger, Eleanora’s old friend, was showing up to save the day.  It collected all the pieces of her broken heart and forged them together into a red-hot ball of tempered steel.  Her mind became a clear and focused diamond laser. 

_She was **not** going to take this shit. _

To Yoosung, she gently but firmly said, “Come on, sweetie.  It's okay.  Get up.  Let's get out of here.  I’ll help you…”

White-haired freak scowled, rage slowly boiling over. 

 _“Oh, no you don't...”_   he snarled.  He spun around, grabbing for something on the table behind him.  He froze when he realized that the item was not there.

“Looking for this?”  Eleanora held up the gun, then deftly unloaded it, allowing the rounds to drop harmlessly to the concrete floor.  Unknown’s jaw dropped as he turned as white as a linen sheet on grandma’s clothesline. 

After a moment, he spoke in a voice that was perfectly steady and calm…and perfectly terrifying.  

“So, _Yoosung_.  Is this how it’s going to be?  After all I’ve done for you to keep your girl safe, after all I’ve done to take care of you…you’re just going to let this…intruder…steal you away from me?  _You’re going to break your word and renege on our deal?_ You're going to be just like everyone else?  I thought you were different...”  He chose his words carefully, calling Yoosung by his name for the first time in seven months.  This was done on purpose, and it provided the intended result: a visceral reaction in the one he was addressing.

 

 _“NO!”_   Yoosung shouted, trying to push Eleanora away from him.  “ _Please_ , let me go!  I have to stay here...for Eleanora!  She needs me to stay here with Master!  Don’t you understand?  PLEASE _LEAVE ME ALONE!”_   he wailed, as sobs once again consumed him.

Unknown giggled gleefully.  “See?  He loves his Master, and he doesn’t want to leave!” 

 _ **“That's bullshit, and you know it!"**_ Eleanora shouted.

"He does _not_ love you, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to stay in this shit-hole with you.  You’ve got him brainwashed!” Eleanora growled.  She could feel her intensifying pulse roaring inside her head. 

With one last tender stroke of his head, Eleanora gently released her grasp on Yoosung, who continued to lie on the floor, curled in a ball, shivering and crying softly. 

She stood, placing herself protectively between Yoosung and the madman he was referring to as “Master”. 

“Listen to me very, _very_ carefully, you son of a bitch, because I’m only going to explain this once,” she said in closely-clipped words, with carefully controlled rage seething like liquid fire in her veins.  “I am here to take Yoosung away from this place, and that is precisely what I am going to do.  He is injured, and he needs immediate medical attention.  _I will not allow you to continue to hurt him.”_ As she spoke, she slowly reached a hand into her pocket, feeling the cold steel of her gun. 

“I know that you are alone, and I know that you are cut off from money and resources. You are dangerously low on options here. The way I see it, you've got two choices:  You can either allow us to leave peacefully and unhindered, or we can do this the hard way—which I _promise_ will not end well for you.  Please choose wisely.  Believe it or not,  _I do not particularly wish to harm you..._ though I am more than capable, and you most definitely deserve it.” 

Eleanora was actually pleased at the careful restraint she managed to show in her words, when what she really wanted to do was blow the motherfucker’s face off. 

As much anger and hatred that Eleanora felt toward the man who had done such horrible things, there was something about him that made her hesitate.  What was it she felt?  Was it pity?  Mercy?  The notion that there might be something human in this clearly broken person that could possibly be worth saving?

“I see how it is,” the man answered coldly, after a thoughtful pause to pick at the black paint on his fingernails.  

Directing his maniacal gaze to Yoosung, he spoke to him in a dark, authoritative tone:  “Do you wish to leave me?  If so, you may leave with this...person.  If you wish to stay, come to me now.” 

Yoosung, his wrists and ankles still bound together, immediately started wriggling himself like an inchworm toward Unknown, groaning painfully as his injuries scraped on the rough, concrete floor.  “I…want to…stay…with…you…Master.  I made..a...promise.” he spoke his words between his efforts to move, and his painful gasps and groans. 

A smug, sadistic smile slowly spread across the pale face with the luminescent green eyes.  He was so proud of his precious pet.  "You're _my_ good boy, aren't you?" he gleefully cooed.

Feeling like she had just been punched in the stomach, Eleanora was beginning to feel more and more helpless.  Panic once again clouded her brain, but she somehow valiantly maintained her brave front.  If her resolve wavered now, it would be game over. 

Her mind raced as she desperately grasped at what to do.  “Yoosung, you are not in your right mind...I can't let you do this!”  Adrenaline-fueled strength surging through her body, she scooped Yoosung off of the floor and held him in her arms.  His body was so thin from malnourishment, that he was light enough for her to carry with some effort. 

“You are coming with me.  We’re getting you out of here and away from this crazy asshole.”

Yoosung struggled weakly against her grip, and Eleanora carefully set him down so that he was standing on his good leg, bending down to unfasten his ankle and wrist restraints so that he could attempt to walk.  “There you go.  Now, come on, sweetheart.  You can do this—I’ll help you.” she encouraged him gently, but still with a hint of urgency in her voice.  She slid her arm supportively under his, and around his back.

As Unknown watched this person, this… _intruder_ … treat his pet with such compassion (something he wanted to do, but didn't know how) and try so hard to pull away the only person who belonged to him—something snapped in his psyche.  All of the memories of his loved ones hurting him, leaving him, one by one, came flooding into his unstable, irrational, anguished mind. 

Suddenly, the broken madman across the room _screamed_ —a primal, terrifying scream.  It was the sound of anguish, of defeat, of resignation, of something that was far beyond despair.  He pulled something small from his pocket, but moved so quickly that Eleanora was unable to tell what it was. 

“YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE ME NO MATTER WHAT I DO!  JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!”

“No, Master!  I won't leave!"  Yoosung croaked pitifully.  _“I don’t want to go!  I want to keep my promise!”_  His barely coherent words faded into tears.

_“IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU, THEN NOBODY WILL HAVE YOU!”_

He suddenly lunged across the room, and tackled Yoosung, who was barely standing with Eleanora's support.  Knocking Yoosung away from Eleanora with shocking force, the pair slammed into the wall before tumbling to the ground.  One of them, it was unclear who, cried out loudly as the tangle of bodies writhed on the floor.

As if she were suddenly possessed by a demon of rage, Eleanora grabbed the white-haired madman by the back of his shirt, pulled him to his feet, and spun him around in one fluid motion. 

Then, without missing a beat—with the grace and elegance of a dancer, and with strength and skill that would make Chuck Norris beam with pride—she executed a perfect roundhouse kick to the side of his head.  

Time seemed to slow to a crawl.  The force from the blow caused Unknown's head to whip violently to the side, his body following limply behind it, landing in a crumpled heap on the concrete floor.  He gasped and coughed; a tiny stream of blood escaping the corner of his mouth.

Eleanora was horrified.  The adrenaline coursing through her veins caused her blow to land much harder than intended.  She had only meant to incapacitate him, not kill him.

With his final moment of consciousness, he whispered, “Yoosung, I'm sorry... _and...I...love...you..._ ”  As his eyes closed, the pained scowl on his face melted into an expression of peace…perhaps for the first time in his miserable life.

Yoosung’s face twisted in despair.   His wails echoed against the stone walls, “NO!   _Master!_   _No….no…no.  He was lost, and I couldn’t save him…I tried…"_   he choked out barely intelligible words and syllables in anguished sobs, and tried to get up from where he was slumped against the wall.  As he tried to move, he suddenly screamed out in pain.

Eleanora was standing in shock, her mouth agape, trying to process what had just happened.

Frantically, she spun around and turned her attention to Yoosung. 

_"Are you okay, Yoos..."_

Her voice died in her throat as she saw it—a three-inch wound on his stomach, just above the waistline of his jeans.  Blood was pouring from it at an alarming rate. 

Yoosung had been stabbed when “Master” tackled him.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!!
> 
> SPOILERS AHEAD!!! 
> 
> Read on at your own risk!
> 
>  
> 
> I'm adding some notes here for Saeran/Unknown/Ray fans who are distraught at what happens to him at the end of this chapter. Please read this before hating me!!!  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> If you've read this story before, you'll know that originally I was pretty clear that Saeran dies at the end of this chapter. 
> 
> In light of recent developments in the game....well, let's just say that I've had certain regrets about that. 
> 
> I'd already developed a lot of sympathy for his character in V's route. As a result, I went back and added a lot of detail that emphasized the deep psychological damage that is at the root of his behavior. He's causing hurt because he's hurt, not because he's some monster. Even Yoosung realizes it, and shows interest in helping him. 
> 
> Then, Saeran got his own route, and...like everyone else...I fell in love with him. Which presented me with a dilemma that, in all honesty, I'm still trying to work out.  
> Just, suffice it to say for now, that he *might not* be dead. He *might* be reappearing in the story in a future volume.  
> I *might be* writing a spin-off story of sorts that explores this point onward from someone else's perspective. (Saeran? Seven/Saeyoung? Hmm....)
> 
> So, if you're distraught at the idea that I killed him off, don't worry! I'll make this right...just have a little patience! 
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me...Love and hugs to all of my readers!!!


	18. The Golden Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unknown is no longer a threat, but Yoosung has been badly wounded in the altercation. Time is of the essence, and Eleanora must get him to a hospital before he bleeds to death.

**Chapter 18: The Golden Hour**

December 25th

* * *

 

4:25pm

 

_"Oh my God…”_

Eleanora gasped; gripped momentarily by utter and abject horror at the wound in Yoosung’s stomach, from which massive amounts of blood was hemorrhaging.  He was crying and babbling incoherently, and seemed to be going into shock.

Thoughts rapidly fired in her brain:

_He’s bleeding._

_So much blood…_

_Must stop the bleeding._

_Hospital.  So far away.  How will I get him there…?_

_First aid.  Must stop the bleeding…_

_Apply direct pressure.  Just like in the manual when I was a Scout..._

Eleanora frantically searched for something, anything, that could be used to apply pressure to the wound.

Finding nothing immediately useful, she took off her scarf and hoodie, under which she wore only a white cotton t-shirt.  Rolling up her hoodie into makeshift bandage, she pressed packet of fabric firmly onto the wound, making Yoosung cry out in pain.

"Ahhh... _AAAHHHhhh!"_  

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  I don’t mean to hurt you.  I have to put lots of pressure on it to stop the bleeding.”  She tried to keep her voice calm, but panic was apparent in her words.

Her scarf was long and stretchy enough to wrap around Yoosung’s narrow waist, and back around to the front, where she tied the ends into a knot, like a belt.  She hoped that this put enough pressure on the makeshift bandage to slow the bleeding. 

She stood up, and took both of his hands into hers, trying to help him to his feet. "I know you're hurt, but I need you to try to get to your feet and help me get you out of here.  We need to get help, fast."  Her voice was shaky, but urgent.

Yoosung sat motionless, eyes closed as he whimpered softly, seemingly oblivious to her. 

“Yoosung...”  Placing her fingertips under his chin, she lifted his head to look up at her.  “Come on, sweetie.  Let me help you up, okay?” she gently encouraged. 

His eyes slowly rose to meet hers, and he saw her face for the first time. 

Instantly, he froze, all signs of pain and distress suddenly melting away from his expression, leaving only a look of awestruck wonder. 

He was transfixed. 

_W_ _as this…an angel?_

_Or…could it possibly be..._ _?_

 

Eleanora's mind was racing... _how could she convince him to come with her?_  

“Yoosung, he’s gone now.  He can’t hurt you ever again.  _Please_ , sweetie.  Come with me, we have to get you to a hospital, right now.”  Eleanora’s words tumbled out in a rush. 

The boy she was addressing didn’t seem to hear her. 

She knelt down next to him again.  His eyes still locked onto hers, his expression unchanged.  He slowly raised a trembling hand to her cheek, as if testing to see if she was real, or some kind of apparition. She closed her eyes briefly, exhaling sharply at the sensation of his fingertips tenderly brushing her skin.  She grasped his hand with hers, trying to redirect the focus to what she was desperately trying to tell him.

“Yoosung…honey, can you hear me?  _We have to go, now!"_   Her voice was rising in poorly concealed panic.  He was still gazing at her, mesmerized, with a heart-melting expression of pure, sweet, angelic awe on his face—which was growing more and more ashen by the minute, as he continued to lose blood. 

He was opening his mouth as if he were about to say something, when his eyes rolled back into his head.  His head lolled to the side, and he passed out.

“YOOSUNG!”  Eleanora cried out in panic.   _“Oh God…help me!”_  

Tossing down her supply bag, and summoning up all of the adrenaline-fueled strength she could muster, she scooped up the unconscious boy and carried him through the big metal door. 

Arriving at the bottom of the ladder, she carefully laid him on the ground, and ran back into the room.  She spotted a large coil of rope hanging on the rack.   _Hopefully, that’s long enough,_  she thought.  She grabbed it, and ran back to Yoosung. 

She recalled from her days as a young Scout how to tie a rescue knot.  Reaching around him, she slipped the rope around his back and under his arms, and tied the rescue knot at his chest.  It will serve as a makeshift harness to hoist him up the ladder to the shed above. 

Climbing the ladder with the rope looped over her shoulder, she threw the loose end over a rafter in the shed’s roof structure.  Praying that the thick plank of wood was strong enough, she began to slowly and carefully pull the rope, watching carefully as her sweetheart was lifted through the vertical tunnel.   _Please, don’t let this hurt him,_  she silently pleaded as she pulled his lifeless body upward. 

Once he appeared at the trap door opening, she tied the rope to a nearby hook on the wall, to keep him from falling back into the hole while she freed him from the makeshift harness.  Taking him into her arms once again, she kicked the shed door open, and emerged into the fading afternoon sun. The icy air clawed at her skin and sliced effortlessly through the thin cotton of her t-shirt.

The car was almost a mile away.  Although Yoosung’s frail body was just barely light enough for her to carry, she wondered briefly if it might be faster for her to lay him here while she ran for the car.  No, she thought.   _He’ll develop hypothermia fast in this cold.  Plus, I can’t risk the chance that there might still be someone else around here._

She adjusted her grip on his body, and set off running as fast as she could with the added weight.  Her arms fatigued quickly, and she had to stop every hundred yards or so to adjust her grasp, but they soon arrived at the car. 

 

* * *

 

4:33pm

 

Eleanora ripped the tarp back, and opened the passenger door.  Carefully, she eased Yoosung into the seat, moved him into a reclined position, and checked to see if the makeshift bandage was holding.  It seemed to be working; there appeared to be less blood flowing from the wound.  That, or—Eleanora worried—he was bleeding out and had less blood to lose. 

This is not the time to let fear take over, Eleanora forcefully told herself, as she summoned up willpower she never knew she possessed to remain focused on her single-minded goal—to get her Yoosung to the help he desperately needed. 

Opening the trunk of the car, she retrieved an emergency blanket.  Rushing back around to the passenger door, she covered Yoosung in an attempt to warm him up.  

She only paused to plant a quick kiss on his forehead.  His skin was so cold and pale, and his lips were beginning to take on a bluish tint.  She shuddered to think that she might not get another chance to kiss him…but she quickly shoved that thought away.

Eleanora jumped into the driver’s seat and started the car, which was soon barreling down the narrow, snow covered roads that lead to the main highway.  

Thankfully, the path of tire tracks and cleared snow that she left behind earlier helped her retrace her route and stay on the right roads. 

As she came to the main road, leaving the treacherous mountain paths behind, she was able to remove one hand from the wheel, reaching over for Yoosung’s hand.  She wrapped her fingers around his, and gave them a gentle squeeze, rubbing her thumb tenderly across the backs of his knuckles.  His fingers were so long and slender…his skin was as soft as a baby’s. 

However, his hands were clammy and cold to the touch.  His fingernails were a sickly blue.  His lips were also turning blue, and his face was quickly taking on a dull, gray pallor. 

_God, please, don’t take him away from me now._

_Not after all he’s been through._

_Please, let him live._

_Dammit, he deserves to live!_

_Please, let him stay with me.  I love him and I need him with me._

“Please, sweetheart.  Hang on, just a little longer.  You're so strong and you've made it through so much already; just hang on a little longer.  I love you.  I love you so, _so_ much.  I need you to stay with me.  Okay?”  

Damn, it was hard for her to hold back her tears.  

 _“Okay…Eleanora.”_  

His voice was so weak, but so sweet as he addressed her by name for the first time in person.  Eleanora felt her heart jump at the sound of his voice.

She glanced over at him.  He was looking up at her, that same angelic gaze he had for her earlier.  She felt him squeeze her hand weakly.  His hands were trembling, and so, so cold.

She could feel in the pit of her stomach that he was slipping away before her eyes.

“I—I love you, Eleanora,” his voice was so small, barely more than a whisper.

“I love you too, baby. More than anything in the world.  _I told you I’d find you and bring you home_.” 

She lifted his hand to her lips and planted soft kisses on each of his delicate fingers.  The faintest hint of a smile played across Yoosung's blue-tinged lips.

 

* * *

 

6:15pm

 

Eleanora punched the gas pedal down a little harder, pushing the little sports car to its limit on the largely deserted highway.  It was almost dark, but on the distant horizon, she could see the faintest glow of the city lights, still a good 80 miles away.  It’s Christmas, so there should not be any traffic.  As long as there are no other setbacks, Seven’s car should make quick work of those 80 miles.

Speeding west down the highway at nearly twice the posted speed limit, it took less than an hour to leave the eastern mountainous region behind.  City lights lit up the horizon.  Soon, the signal indicator bars on her phone jumped up, and she had cell phone service.  Pressing the voice command button on the steering wheel, she said “Call Jumin Han”.  The phone rang twice before someone picked up. 

“Jumin Han’s office, Assistant Kang speaking.” 

For a split second, Eleanora wondered what on earth Jaehee was doing answering phones for Jumin… _on Christmas._

“Jaehee!  It’s Eleanora."

“Oh, hello, Eleanora.  Merry Christmas.  How are you this evening?” Jaehee sounded tired, but her voice was as pleasant and professional as always  

“There's no time for pleasantries, Jaehee," Eleanora interjected. "I've got Yoosung.”

Silence.

Eleanora briefly wondered if the call dropped before hearing Jaehee take a sharp breath.

“I--I'm sorry, Eleanora, I must have misunderstood you. Perhaps the signal is bad. Could you please repeat what you just said?" 

"You heard me correctly, Jaehee.  I have Yoosung." 

A small gasp, followed by a bit of commotion sounded in the background. 

"You found him? _He's actually with you?!”_  

Jaehee sounded uncharacteristically flabbergasted, and Eleanora heard shuffling and a series of faint beeps and clicks on the line.

“Yes.  I have him with me right now, but he is badly injured.  We are heading west on route 60 toward the city as fast as I can make this car move.  We're about 40 miles from the edge of the city.  I’m heading straight for the hospital.  There’s no time to meet an ambulance.  In about …uh… (she paused to check the GPS)…23 minutes, I’m going to need a police escort and traffic control from the outskirts of town right up to the hospital’s emergency entrance.  The hospital also needs to be notified so they can be ready.  He needs blood...type A... _massive_ amounts of it, and he will need a full trauma team standing by on arrival.  We can’t afford any delays.  Can you relay this to Jumin?”

Jumin’s voice suddenly came onto the line:  “No need, Eleanora. Assistant Kang has patched me into the call.  I heard everything, and I’m already on the line with police dispatch to arrange your escort to the hospital.  Just keep driving toward the city as fast as you safely can, and we will meet you at the hospital in approximately 20 minutes.  Everything will be ready.”  As always, Jumin’s deep, calm voice was steady and reassuring, even if there was a distinct hint of urgency in his words.

“Thank you,” Eleanora said, but the call was already disconnected. 

She looked down at Yoosung, squeezing his hand again.  “Yoosung, are you still with me?” 

He startled a bit when she called his name, as if pulled back from the edge of a deep sleep.  

“Hi, babe,” he said softly, and with a tiny grin.

Eleanora smiled.  How is it possible that her sweetheart could still manage to be adorable, even at death’s doorstep?

“Hey, cutie.  Try not to go to sleep, okay?  I need you to stay as alert as you can.  Talk to me about something.”

"What...should I talk about?  Too tired to think.." he mumbled softly, slurring his words slightly.

“I know you're tired, sweetheart, but it’s really dangerous for you to sleep right now.  Let’s see….what can we talk about...” Eleanora thought for a second, and then inspiration struck. 

“I bet you’re looking forward to playing LOLOL again.  I want you to teach me to play so we can go on quests and fight the big bosses together.  I can be your sidekick.  What do you think about that?”

Yoosung’s eyes widened slightly with interest, and he smiled weakly.  “Wow...really?  I’d love that."

His voice was a bit stronger and clearer, exactly what Eleanora wanted to hear.  “But, if you want to get the good weapons and armor, you'll need to learn how to run in raid parties,” he added.

“Okay, then.  You can teach me that, too.  Teach me everything you know about LOLOL.  Before long, I bet I'll outrank you!”  Eleanora was hoping to tease him into a playful argument, to keep him awake and focused.

“You think you can beat Superman Yoosung?   Don't forget, I’m the second-highest ranking player on the Shooting Star server.” Even with his voice being so weak , he still managed to sound adorable as he feigned indignation.  

Eleanora giggled.  “Of course I can beat you!  I’m a fast learner, and I will have very best teacher to learn from.”  

Yoosung smiled again, but weaker than before.  His eyes, normally a brilliant amethyst, were sunken and looked almost as gray and dull as his skin.  He was barely keeping them open.

For the next ten minutes, she tried to keep him talking about his favorite game, mostly by asking him questions for which he’d give short, simple answers.  He was far too weak to carry on a full conversation, but Eleanora's goal was only to keep him awake and engaged until they arrived at the hospital. 

Each time he spoke, he sounded more languid.  His skin was pale gray, his lips and fingernails were bluish-purple.  His breathing was slow, irregular, and noisy. Occasionally, he would cough, which would cause him to moan painfully; he was far too weak to cry out. 

Eleanora could sense that Yoosung had mere minutes to live.  Her foot pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

They were entering the outskirts of the city, and traffic was beginning to pick up.  It was almost 7pm, and with the Christmas holiday, there was far less traffic than what there would usually be.  Suddenly, a police car appeared behind her, lights flashing and siren blaring.

“ _Oh God, are you serious?_  No way.  I’m _not_ stopping.”

Just as she was about to call 911 to let police dispatch know about the situation, a second police car pulled up alongside, also with lights and sirens.  Another one pulled up to the other side, and one pulled in front, a few car lengths ahead.  Jumin had come through on the police escort.  

The officer in the car to her left looked over at her, and gestured by pointing forward repeatedly, giving her permission to continue at speed.  She floored the gas pedal, and the police cars matched her speed in formation around her.

“Look, baby.  You’re getting a welcome home parade!” 

“Wow… I feel...important…heh...”  Yoosung tried to laugh, but coughed instead, moaning as the strain of coughing sent searing jabs of pain through his belly.  His breathing had become very slow and labored.  

“Oh, my sweetheart.  You are  _very_ important.  You’re everything to me.”  Eleanora squeezed his hand again.  This time, he didn’t squeeze her hand in return.

"How are you doing, love?  Are you hurting?" Eleanora asked anxiously.

“...a l-little bit.  Mostly cold.  So…c-cold…and sleepy.” His voice was so tiny, and his words were slurred.  Eleanora turned up the heater, unsure if it would help, but desperate to do something.

“I know, honey, but you’ve got to stay awake just a little longer, okay?  We’re almost there…” 

No response.

“Hey, Yoosung.  What were you telling me about your character on LOLOL?  What level is his armor?..."

 _"Yoosung_ …”

Nothing. 

“Sweetie… please.  _Stay with me…”_

Eleanora’s voice rose in panic. 

“YOOSUNG!   _Come on, baby…answer me!_    What level is your character’s armor?!  What should I roll for my first character--should I do DPS or heals??”

_“Yoosung, sweetheart…please!_

_Don't leave me..._

_I can't lose you again!"_

No response.  She could no longer hear his breathing, and his hand was deathly cold. 

 _No…_  

For the first time since this operation began, Eleanora truly felt the icy cold hands of full-blown panic take hold of her.  She floored the gas pedal once again and laid on the car's horn, and the cops around her kept up, still blaring sirens and lights. 

The highway exit for the hospital was only one mile away, and within seconds, they were slowing down a bit in order to safely exit the highway. Police had traffic cleared from the exit ramp all the way to the hospital entrance.

After exiting the highway, the hospital was immediately ahead.  Within seconds, Eleanora whipped the car into the ambulance driveway, tires screeching loudly as the car shuddered to a stop. 

A team of emergency medics were waiting, and immediately swarmed the car with a whirlwind of activity.  In less than a minute, Yoosung was on a gurney, being rushed inside. 

Once he disappeared behind the emergency room doors, Eleanora was left standing alone in the empty hospital entrance, which was now deathly quiet. 

She had never felt so helpless and alone.  She glanced around frantically...she felt like she needed to _do_ _something_ , but there was nothing left for her to do.

Yoosung's fate was no longer in her hands.  All she could do was wait.

Looking down, she noticed her black hoodie—the one she used to bandage Yoosung’s wound—had fallen to the ground just inside the hospital doorway.   Slowly, she picked it up, digging her fingers into the rolled-up material, feeling the wet warmth of Yoosung's blood still fresh on the fabric.  Grasping it tightly, she hugged it to her chest, not caring about the resulting blood stains forming on her shirt, arms and hands. 

Sinking to her knees, clutching the blood-soaked hoodie to her heart, Eleanora finally let down her guard, allowing herself to crumble and fall to pieces. 

All the panic, fear, dread, worry…it all flooded out as tears streamed freely over her hot, red face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Revenge (William Orbit Remix)--Madonna https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGRW5FBeJiM
> 
> Let Us Burn--Within Temptation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DBuIhr1Id4


	19. At the Brink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The RFA has gathered with Eleanora at the hospital to await news on Yoosung's condition.

**Chapter 19: At the Brink**

December 25th

* * *

 

7:29pm

 

_“Eleanora?”_

A familiar voice came from behind her, and a strong but gentle hand gripped her shoulder tightly. 

Eleanora slowly turned and looked up to see Jaehee Kang standing by her side. Her eyes were red and shiny; it was clear that she’d also been crying.

Rising to her feet, and without any words, Eleanora fell into her dear friend's arms.  The two women held each other, both seeking comfort in each other as they shared their tears. 

A moment later, another set of arms encircled them, belonging to Zen.  The next belonged to Seven, as he placed a hand comfortingly on Eleanora's head.  Then Jumin, somewhat awkwardly, joined the group embrace.  Eleanora felt completely enveloped in the love of her dearest friends as they surrounded her.

With Eleanora still clutching her blood-soaked sweater to her heart, they made their way to a nearby, private waiting room, where they would spend the next several hours waiting for news.

“Can I get you anything, Eleanora?  Some coffee, or something to eat?”  Jaehee asked sweetly.  There was no way Eleanora could eat at a time like this, but she did gratefully accept the offer of coffee.  She still felt the chill of that horrible place, as well as the way Yoosung’s hands had felt so cold in hers.  It will take many cups of hot coffee to chase away that kind of chill.

 

Eleanora slowly sipped her coffee, sitting in the middle of a leather sofa, with Jaehee to her right, and Seven to her left.  Zen occupied a chair just a few feet away, while Jumin stood watch near the door. 

The room was small, but cozy.  It was very comfortably furnished with a sofa and several chairs.  A small, dining-type table sat in a corner with two chairs.  A floor lamp provided a relaxing amount of light, while a small Christmas tree in the corner provided some additional soft lighting. 

The room was mostly silent, save for the occasional sniffle.  A box of tissues sat in Eleanora’s lap, and a trash can stood nearby, half-filled with used tissues. 

The other RFA members showed varying levels of emotion.  Jaehee’s tears flowed almost as freely as Eleanora’s.  Zen's eyes and nose were red.  Seven was a wreck, spending most of the time with his head in his hands.  Jumin, however, stood stoically by the door, with his back to the group, occasionally excusing himself to step outside the room. 

Zen later confided to Eleanora that he found Jumin wiping away tears in the restroom, but was sworn to not tell anyone. 

“Emotional outbursts are worse than useless.  They don't change a thing, and are simply not professional.” Jumin had said irritably to Zen, as he splashed water on his face, dried off with a towel, and stormed out the door. 

 _How perfectly Jumin-like,_ Eleanora thought as she promised Zen she wouldn’t breathe a word to a single soul. 

Jumin wasn’t fooling her; underneath that cool, logical exterior, she knew how much he really did care.

 

* * *

 

11:55pm

 

It was nearly midnight when footsteps could be heard approaching the private waiting area, breaking the silence in the otherwise deserted hospital hallway.  A soft knock on the door quickly followed.

Jumin opened the door, and a man dressed in green surgical scrubs and mask entered the room. 

He removed the mask, revealing a rugged, yet kindly face appearing to be relatively young—with piercing green eyes and unruly brown curls poking out from under a surgical cap. 

“Good evening, everyone,” he said with a quick glance at the concerned faces in the room. 

He then focused on the two young ladies sitting on the sofa, “Which of you is Miss Eleanora?” 

“I am,” Eleanora answered him as she quickly rose to her feet.  _How did he know her name?_

The doctor nodded and smiled as he motioned for her to sit back down.  "No need to get up, Miss," he said gently.

Settling back into her seat, Eleanora felt her hands both being held tightly by Jaehee and Seven, and Jaehee’s free arm wrapped around her shoulders tightly and protectively.  Both Jumin and Zen stood behind her, Zen’s hand solidly gripping her shoulder, and Jumin’s hand laying gingerly on her back. 

Eleanora felt strengthened by the unified support from her beloved friends.

The doctor pulled a chair from the nearby table, turned it backwards, then sat down, straddling the back of the chair to face the apprehensive group. 

“My name is Doctor Ian Joseph.  I am the chief surgeon and attending physician that has been working on Mr. Kim tonight.” 


	20. Damage Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hours of waiting, Eleanora and the other members of the RFA get an update from the doctor.

**Chapter 20:  Damage Report**

December 26th

* * *

 

11:58pm

 

Doctor Joseph took a deep breath, looking squarely into Eleanora’s eyes.  She stared back at him, not daring to take a breath. 

“First off, I want to reassure you.  He’s alive, and we have gotten him stabilized.”  The group collectively sighed with relief.  Eleanora closed her eyes, silently and prayerfully mouthing the words _thank you…thank you....thank you._

“Yoosung has suffered a 75% loss of his blood volume, which translates to about 4 liters of loss.  When the blade entered his abdomen, it nicked multiple major arteries, almost severing one of them completely.  The makeshift bandage you placed on the wound saved his life.  Had he not had immediate and constant pressure on the area, he would be laying in the morgue right now, without a doubt."

“Is he going to be okay?”  Eleanora was trembling uncontrollably, despite the four strong sets of arms around her, literally holding her together.

“I know this isn’t the answer any of you would like to hear, but it really is too soon to tell at the moment.  The fact that he is alive at this moment is, frankly, amazing.  When he arrived at the hospital, he was in code blue status—cardiac arrest, no breathing.  He was resuscitated, then rushed into surgery, which is where he’s been for the past several hours.  He has just come out of surgery, where we repaired the damaged arteries, as well as the damage to the small intestine. 

“From a strictly technical standpoint, the surgery went flawlessly.  The knife used in the attack was obviously very sharp, and the cuts we had to repair were all clean and smooth.  That is good, because it makes it easier to line up the edges and stitch them together.  It also results in a much lower rate of tissue death.  We also closed the other, less-severe blade wounds.

“He is currently receiving blood transfusions and fluids, as rapidly as we can get them into him.  He is young and strong, and both of these factors work in his favor.  However, he is also severely dehydrated and malnourished.  I have to say that I have never had a patient compromised to the extent that this young man is, and still be alive, with or without the extensive injuries he is dealing with.  I'm not a spiritual man, and I don't use the term "miracle" lightly, but I believe that is precisely what we're seeing tonight.

“I can also tell you that I have never seen a patient with a stronger will to live in the face of what seem like impossible odds.  I believe that is what is making the difference here; and I am fairly confident that his willpower to live has a lot to do with you, Miss Eleanora."  Eleanora's breath hitched, and she felt Jaehee squeeze her hand gently.

Dr. Joseph went on to explain. “Before we took him into surgery, he suddenly became completely conscious and lucid—mind you, he had just been _clinically dead_ only moments before—and called out your name several times, asking about you, and wanting to see you.  Considering that this is an individual who should not be living, by all of the currently accepted medical standards—let alone be awake, alert, and calling for a loved one—I’d say that you have yourself a remarkable young man, and that he clearly has a remarkable young lady.  That kind of love is at least as powerful a healing force as any tools, knowledge, or skills at my disposal.”

Eleanora felt her heart jump into her throat, and tears once again spilling down her cheeks.  Jaehee sniffled quietly next to her.  Seven grabbed a tissue and blew his nose; which was red enough to match his hair.  Zen dabbed his eyes with a tissue, and Jumin turned away, leaning by one shoulder against the wall.  

 _So, that’s how the doctor knew my name,_  Eleanora realized. 

“Yoosung… _my angel_ …” she whispered, closing her eyes.  She felt Jaehee’s grip around her shoulders tighten, and Eleanora squeezed her hand in response.  She had no idea where she would be without her friends and their love and support.

“There are a number of other injuries that will require treatment once the immediate threats to life have been addressed.  First and foremost, blood volume needs to be restored.  We have repaired the injuries, and he is getting blood transfused as we speak. 

“He has sustained a complete break of both the tibia and fibula of his left leg.  The injury is at least several weeks old, but because it was never set properly, the bones have attempted to fuse incorrectly.  Once he is stabilized, he will have to have surgery to reconstruct these bones and set them properly.  An orthopedic specialist will need to oversee that, and I have already put in a request to have a colleague of mine—one of the best in the field—examine him here in the next couple of days.

“Also, he has a dislocated right shoulder with severe derangement of all of the surrounding muscles and tendons.  This also appears to be an injury that happened some time ago and never treated.  My colleague will also need to evaluate that, and determine whether surgery is necessary.  Both of these injuries have been stabilized for the time being.

“He also has a multitude of lacerations and burns, some of which were never closed properly, and some of which are currently infected.  We have already started him on some powerful antibiotics to preventatively treat the stab wound, and protect against potential complications from extreme blood loss, and the antibiotic treatment will also take care of these smaller infections as well.  A dermatologist will be checking him soon to see if any corrective actions can be made for the improperly healed skin wounds. 

“He does have some minor internal injuries, most likely the result of repeated sexual assault…..”

Jaehee gasped.  Jumin turned around to face the group, his face shocked and flushed. Seven dropped his head into his hands.  Zen stared angrily at the floor, a scowl twisting the delicate features on the actor’s beautiful face. 

Eleanora stared at the doctor in shock, her hands slowly balling into trembling fists—until they got so tight that she could feel her fingernails digging painfully into the heels of her palms.  She felt rage—pure, uncontained rage.  Although she watched the doctor continue to speak, her mind had temporarily lost the ability to process his words.

“…seem to be healing well on their own.  The antibiotics he’s receiving should prevent any complications that arise in that regard.”

“This young man has been through an unimaginable amount of trauma, both physical and mental.  His body is about as weak as it could possibly be, and all of his physiological resources have been exhausted. 

“In order to give his body a chance to rest and repair itself, he has been put into a medically induced coma.  He is on a ventilator, which is a tube placed into the airway through the mouth to breathe for him.  He is also on a nasogastric tube, which enters through the nose and into the stomach.  This will be used to supply him with much needed nutrition until he is able to eat on his own, which will probably be at least a few days. 

“The goal here is to remove as much of the functional burden from his body as we possibly can, so that he can rest, and thus make the healing process as quick and efficient as possible.  We’ll see how he is doing in about twelve hours.  Tomorrow afternoon, if I see enough of an improvement, I may start slowly stepping him down from sedation.  Then, we can start treating the less severe injuries, and we can also begin checking him for any permanent damage that may have resulted from severe blood loss.”

“What do you mean by  _permanent damage?”_ Zen asked.  Eleanora’s gaze on the doctor intensified as she awaited his answer.

“Well, anytime you have blood loss to this extent, damage can occur to the organs, including the brain.  The reason is pretty straightforward…blood is the vehicle the body uses to carry vital substances throughout the body—oxygen, in particular—and it's also what carries waste products away to be filtered out of the body by the kidneys. 

”So, when there is a major loss of blood volume, this system is unable to function properly.  This leads directly to two very dangerous situations.  The first problem that arises is a disruption of the supply of oxygen to vital organ systems, such as the brain and heart.  In severe cases, tissue death can begin occurring within minutes.  Secondarily, there is reduced efficiency in waste removal, which leads to a buildup of toxic substances in the blood.  This can quickly lead to septic shock, which can quickly lead to organ failure and death.   

“The brain is particularly susceptible to damage in this way, because it requires the most support from the cardiovascular system.  Once he is stable, we can begin scans to check for problems, and monitor for any changes as the blood volume is returned to normal."

Once again, Dr. Joseph glanced around at all parties present, before settling his gaze back on Eleanora.  “I’ll not sugar-coat this, because I’m fairly certain each of you already has a pretty firm grasp of what I’m about to say.  Yoosung has a very long and very difficult road ahead of him.  His home will be right here at this hospital for at least a few weeks.  He will likely need multiple surgeries in the coming weeks, each one followed by intense physical and occupational therapies to regain his full range of abilities.  Considering what he has been through, I expect that he will also need extensive psychological therapy to help him come to terms with everything that has happened to him.  All of this will be hard, painful work.”

The doctor sat forward in his seat and regarded Eleanora gently, “if his love for you is what has kept him alive during this whole, long, terrible ordeal, then you need to fully understand the vital and immeasurable role that you and your support will be playing during his recovery process.”

“I understand…and I'll be there with him every...step of...the way...” Eleanora's voice broke as the tears began to flow once again. 

“Sorry…” she grabbed a fresh tissue and brought it to her face.

“No need to apologize, Miss.” The doctor smiled kindly at Eleanora.  “Do any of you have questions for me before I go?”

She sniffled again.  “When….when can I see him?” 

“It will probably be another hour or so.  He is still being monitored in post-op recovery.  Once they release him, he’ll be moved to the intensive care unit, where we can keep a close eye on him for the next few days.  Once he is settled into a room, you will be able to see him.  The ICU usually lets up to two people visit at a time during the day, and only lets one person be in the room overnight, but depending on who the charge nurse is tonight, they may allow you all to come in for just a few minutes.”

Doctor Joseph stood up to leave.  “The next day or two will be mostly just waiting and seeing how he does.  I’ll be back in the morning to check on him.”

Eleanora suddenly jumped to her feet, rushing to Dr. Joseph, and giving him a hug. 

“Thank you, for saving him,” she said, almost in a whisper.

Dr. Joseph laid his hand gently on her shoulder.

“You are very welcome, though I believe you had at least as much to do with it as I did, and probably more so.”

He smiled kindly at Eleanora, before excusing himself from the room.


	21. Lost and Found...and Lost Again (Seven's Secret)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven seems to be having a hard time handling the situation. When he learns of the fate of the man responsible for Yoosung's ordeal, his reaction leaves Eleanora and the others in shock. Is he just feeling extreme guilt, or is there a deeper meaning to his behavior?

**Chapter 21: Found…and Lost (Seven’s Secret)**

December 26th

* * *

 

12:21am

 

Zen returned to his seat, glaring fiercely at the floor.  “I can’t believe what all they did to him.  Bastards.”

Eleanora took another tissue from the box on Jaehee’s lap and wiped her swollen, red nose. 

“Not  _they_.  It was just the one guy.  The one who called himself ‘Unknown’.  He was the same one who hacked into my phone and led me to Rika's apartment and the RFA.”  Eleanora explained. 

Seven, who was still resting his head in his hands next to Eleanora, suddenly sat up at full attention.  His face, almost as red as the mop of hair on his head, bore an expression that was difficult to decipher.

“What happened to him…to _'Unknown'?”_   Seven asked, a strange deepness to his voice that almost didn’t even sound like him. 

“Did he get away?”  He almost sounded hopeful.

She shook her head slowly, “No.  He...he's...dead."

A silent thunderbolt of shock froze everyone in the room.  All eyes were staring at Eleanora, who shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  

Seven's face went completely ashen, his eyes scrunching closed and his lower lip trembling. He looked like he was in physical pain.

Alarmed by Seven's reaction, Eleanora struggled to explain.  "I waited until he was gone.  I...I was trying to get Yoosung out, but Unknown came back.  There was a confrontation, then he rushed at Yoosung with a knife.  That’s when he was stabbed.  It all happened so fast...” Eleanora closed her eyes as the events played in her head all over again.  The entire moment as it happened took place in the space of a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity as Eleanora relived it. 

“I pulled him off of Yoosung, and…I don’t know what happened…I… swung around and...I kicked him in the head.  I just meant to knock him out, but his head…his skull...he…he died within seconds.  I didn’t mean to  _kill_  him, but…I’m not sure if I’m sorry I did it.  He did horrible things...he hurt Yoosung…over, and over, and over again.  He wasn't going to stop, and he wasn't going to let him go.  He had a gun, and I am sure he was going to kill him.”

As Eleanora spoke, Seven once again buried his face and wept bitterly.  Eleanora reached around his shoulders and hugged him. 

Softly, she told him, “It’s okay, Seven.  Yoosung is safe now.  ... _Seven_?”  Seven stood up abruptly, facing away from Eleanora.  His shoulders heaved with sobs.

“Eleanora, I’m…so…this is…it’s…my fault…I’m …I’m so sorry.  I never meant… _oh God_ … _Sae...ran_ …”  The anguish in his voice rose until his voice became cracked and distorted.  His hands covered his face, and his last words were barely intelligible. 

 _Saeran?_  

_What does that mean?  Who is that?_

“Seven…”  Eleanora stood up, reaching out to hug him, as the others looked on in silent, shocked bewilderment.

Seven awkwardly staggered backward, recoiling from Eleanora's touch.  Wiping his face on his jacket sleeve and clearing his throat, he said abruptly, “I've got to go.  I’m sorry, everyone.  Eleanora…take good care of Yoosung, okay?  He's a good kid, and he...he didn't deserve... Ughhh..." he began to stammer.  "I just...I gotta go.  I’ll be back soon, I promise.  I just need to…go…be alone for a while.”  Without another word, he was out the door.

Eleanora stood, mouth agape, as she wondered what had just happened. She had never seen Seven like this. Nobody had.  

"Did I...do something wrong?" she asked timidly.  

"No, Eleanora. You did exactly what you had to do.  From everything I've seen and heard, I am fairly certain that Yoosung would be dead right now if you had done any differently." Jumin said reassuringly.

“Seven must be feeling extremely guilty.  I wish he didn't, because nobody faults him for what happened to Yoosung.”  Jaehee observed.  “I hope he is careful out there.  It’s not safe to drive when you’re overcome with emotion.”

Zen sat back in his seat.  “It’s not safe to drive the way he does, crying or not,” he noted.  “He probably just needs some time to sort things out.  I’m sure he’ll be fine in a bit.”  To Eleanora, he added, "Good job, Eleanora.  I'm glad you kicked that bastard's ass....er, head." Zen snickered at his own little joke.

Eleanora smiled appreciatively at Zen’s praise, then turned her attention toward the door that Seven had just exited.  She had no idea what to think about his unusual, emotional outburst...but she hoped with all of her heart that he would be okay.

Her mind was still swirling in a haze, still trying to process everything that had happened.  Everything felt so...so surreal; was it possible she had dreamed the last 24 hours, and she was really back at her apartment, dozed off at her computer?

Returning to her seat, Eleanora looked at each of her friends.  Jaehee was still sitting to her right, and Jumin had claimed a seat across the room, near the door.  Zen stood up and moved to the seat next to Eleanora that was vacated when Seven left. Taking her hand, he gave her a comforting smile. 

She was so grateful to have these people in her life; their love and support had been her lifeline in the past seven months. 

However, her heart ached for Seven, and she wished that he didn’t feel so guilty. 

Yoosung was alive, he was safe, he was getting the help he needed, and it seemed like he was going to be able to recover. 

She was so grateful…for everything. 

For the first time, she felt like maybe, just maybe, everything might actually be alright. 

Finally feeling a little more relaxed, she leaned her head onto Jaehee’s strong and capable shoulder.  


	22. Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanora finally is allowed to go see her Yoosung.

**Chapter 22: Rest**

December 26th

* * *

 1:12am

 

“Eleanora…”  As her name was spoken, she felt Jaehee gently patting her back.

“ _Huh?  What?  Oh..._ I’m awake,” Startled, she snapped to attention and tried to act like she hadn’t dozed off on Jaehee's shoulder as she quickly brushed a small puddle of drool from the corner of her mouth.  "What's going on?"

Jaehee nodded her head toward the door, where stood a petite, middle-aged nurse, clutching a folder in her hands.  Eleanora quickly scrambled to her feet, blinking away the resulting headrush before anyone could notice.

“Miss Eleanora?  I’m here to take you up to see Mr. Kim.”  Regarding the others in the room, she smiled apologetically.  “It’s probably best if only one or two of you go in for now."

Jumin stood up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders.  “Assistant Kang, I think it’s best if you and I take our leave for now.  Zen, you should probably also head home and get some rest.  We'll be of more use here if we are not dead tired.  Let's allow Eleanora to have some time alone with Yoosung.  We can visit tomorrow.”

The friends said their goodbyes, each giving Eleanora a hug. 

After they were gone, Eleanora followed the nurse out of the waiting room, down a large hallway, and into an elevator.  The hospital was huge—one of the largest in the country—and it was strange to see such a large place that’s usually bustling with people and activity, almost completely deserted in the middle of the night.  

The nurse, who wore a name tag revealing that her name was Min-Jung, pushed the button for the 9th floor, and the smooth metal doors slid shut. 

She smiled kindly at Eleanora.  “So, I take it that you're his…?”  She paused tentatively, hoping to lead Eleanora to fill in the blank.

 _“Girlfriend._   I’m his girlfriend.”  Eleanora blushed. 

“Ah...I see.  That's lovely, dear.  Have the two of you been together long?”

“Long enough.”  In her muddled, overwhelmed mind, Eleanora silently hoped that the nurse’s well-intentioned attempt at friendly (albeit nosy) small talk was finished.  Her mind was already spinning with too much to think about without also needing to carry on a conversation with a stranger.

Soon, the elevator door opened, and they were on the hospital's 9th floor.  They stepped into a large, completely deserted waiting area.  The opposing side of the room was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, through which the illuminated city skyline cut a sharp contrast against the cold, dark night sky. 

Eleanora followed the nurse past a brightly lit nurse’s station, at which three other nurses sat at workstations and typed on medical notes.  Each of them glanced up and acknowledged Eleanora with a smile and a nod.  A wall of monitors behind them, making the station look like a war room, displayed vital signs of the patients in the ward.  Eleanora wondered if one of them were for Yoosung, but did not linger long enough to look closely.

They proceeded a short distance down a hallway.  The pounding of her heart was growing steadily with each step, approaching a crescendo as the nurse opened a door.  Taking a deep breath and trying to prepare herself for whatever she was about to see, she followed the nurse into the dimly lit room.

Yoosung was lying flat on his back in the hospital bed.  A large tube emerged from his mouth, held in place by a plastic mouthpiece and elastic strap that went around his head.  A small, white tube came from his right nostril and was taped in place to his cheek.  A short plastic tube stood out from his chest at the sternum, to which a smaller tube attached, apparently supplying blood directly into his sternum bone.  His hospital shirt was open halfway up the chest, and Eleanora could see another port going into his chest below his left collarbone, to which more blood transfusion lines were attached.  Both of these had considerable bruising around them, likely due to the urgency with which they were placed.  He had IV ports in both arms, between the wrists and elbows. 

His wrists were bandaged where the cuffs he had worn for so long had worn his skin raw.  His neck bore red, rough patches from the collar, but they weren't severe enough to require bandaging.  Numerous wires and electrical leads were attached to him:  tiny wire leads went through his messy hair and attached to various points on his scalp, where they monitored his brain activity.  Others attached to round, sticky pads on his chest, while still others disappeared under the covers.  Each tube and wire connected to some machine, monitor, or apparatus that sat near the bed.  Four upright racks for IV fluid bags flanked his bed, two on each side, and each holding various bags and packets.  Many, labelled “A”, contained blood, while the rest contained other various substances.  The tubes carrying blood ran through pumping mechanisms that made frequent click and whirring noises.  A heart monitor beeped softly in time with his pulse, which was at a steady resting pace.  The ventilator machine made a soft, rhythmic air-rushing sound as it carried the burden of breathing for him.

He looked so small and frail, surrounded by numerous pieces of equipment that were working to keep him alive.  His face was still ghost white, but no longer had the gray pallor of death; his lips, only partially visible from around the ventilator mouthpiece, had shed their blue tint from earlier.  His face looked relaxed and peaceful, a far cry from the tense, pained expression he wore previously.

Min-Jung fluttered around the bed, moving a few of the machines around to make room at Yoosung’s bedside.  “Let’s see, my dear…how about we put the chair right here, so you can be close to him?  We allow patients to have loved ones with them at all hours, because medical science has proven that it helps with the healing process.”

She moved a small, but comfortable-looking reclining chair right up next to Yoosung’s bed. 

“That door right there goes to a private bathroom, plus there are also public restrooms across the hall.  Just a bit further down the way to the left, there's a small kitchenette for visitors.  There are drinks, snacks, coffee, and a few light meal items for when the cafeteria is closed.  You’re welcome to help yourself.  If you need anything at all, I’ll just be down the hall at the nurse’s station.  Press the call button on the remote or on the bed rail if you need me, and I’ll be stopping in every half hour to check on him.”

Frozen in place, eyes still fixed on Yoosung, Eleanora mumbled a distracted thanks to Min-Jung, who quietly stepped out.  It was a couple of minutes before she was capable of movement.

“ _Oh…sweetheart."_   The whispered words tumbled from her lips.  She realized that she had been holding her breath. 

Her hands had turned icy, as if the blood had been squeezed from them.  Absentmindedly, she rubbed them together as her mind raced to verify that she was truly in the real world, and not some exhaustion-induced hallucination.

There he was, right in front of her, but she couldn’t believe it.  Despite everything, he was safe. 

_And he was alive._

_Was this really happening?_

Stepping up to the side of the bed, she gingerly touched his forehead, softly pushing back a lock of his unruly hair before gently stroking his cheek with the backs of her fingers.  His baby-soft skin was cool to the touch, but a far cry from the deathly cold he felt earlier in the evening.

Slowly, she settled into the chair that was sitting to the left side of the bed.  Slipping her shoes off and pulling her legs up under her, she turned to face her sweet Yoosung.  Reaching her left hand through the gap in the bed’s guard rail, she laced her fingers around his.  With the other hand, she reached across the top of his head, running her fingers through his hair and gently stroking his head, carefully avoiding the tiny wire leads on his scalp. 

Leaning in close, she spoke softly, with her lips only a few inches from his ear.

“I’m here, Yoosung.  I’m right here beside you, and that’s where I will be from now on…I promise.  I love you.  I love you so much."  Her throat seemed to clench down on the last few words as she struggled to speak them.  Pausing to take a deep breath, she could feel the tears coming again.  This time, she did nothing to stop them. 

Every wall, barrier, protective mechanism she had built around herself in recent months were slowly crumbling down.

"Rest, my love...just rest.  You’ve earned it.  I know how tired you are.  Just relax…sleep…and heal.  I’ll be right here with you...I'm not going anywhere.  You’re safe now.”  Leaning over, she planted small, soft kisses on his forehead, his cheek, and the backs of his fingers.

All of the worry, all of the heartache, the hope that built up, crashed down, and lunged upward again like a demented roller coaster—all of it combined into a ball that burst into flames.  At that moment, everything fell away and left pure, raw emotion.  She was here, he was here, and he was safe.  He was far from being  _okay_ , but he was moving in that direction.  Slowly.  And she was by his side.

He had saved her, and she had saved him.  Soul cleansing, heart-healing sobs heaved her body as she finally purged all of the pressure and tension that had built up over the last seven months. 

Their path to healing had begun.


	23. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoosung gradually makes progress, with Eleanora never leaving his side.

**Chapter 23: Baby Steps**

December 26th

* * *

 

6:34am

 

Eleanora’s sleep was a series of naps, punctuated by twice-hourly visits by nurses who came to check vital signs and transfusion progress. 

She was curled up in the chair, which was surprisingly comfortable, as hospital furniture goes.  Her her right arm was curled protectively around Yoosung’s head, occasionally stroking his forehead and smoothing his hair.  Her left hand stayed wrapped around his left hand.  Her head rested on the edge of the chair’s back, only an inch or two from the edge of the bed.  She wanted to stay as close to him as possible.

She watched the sun rise over the city from the massive windows that ran from floor to ceiling across the far side of the room.  The view was stunning, as the rosy light of dawn painted watercolor streaks across the purple sky.  A dense fog hung over the city, catching a pale pink cast from the earliest of the sun’s rays. 

Unlike the last sunrise Eleanora witnessed--which matched this one in beauty and splendor, but carried with it fear and uncertainty--this one held hope, promise, and love.  So much love.  

 

* * *

 

8:20am

 

“His color is much better today,” Dr. Joseph noted as he examined Yoosung.  “His lab work looks promising, too, though most of the measurements won’t be too reliable until his newly transfused blood supply settles a bit. Overall, I'm very impressed and pleased with his progress.  Although, after what I saw last night, I can't say I'm all that surprised.” 

The transfusions were complete, and two of the IV ports that were being used solely for infusing blood were removed.  The line into his sternum bone, which she learned was called an intraosseous (IO) infusion line, was also removed, leaving a in its place a cluster of several large puncture holes where the needles went through his skin and directly into the bone.  Eleanora had watched the IO line removal, and immediately regretted it once it came out.  It looked extremely painful, and there was a huge, dark bruise all around the area, but the doctor assured Eleanora that Yoosung never felt it. 

“That kind of infusion line is not very common, but in emergency situations like last night, it can be a life-saver, because it's one of the fastest and most efficient ways to get blood or fluids into the body in a way the body can utilize quickly and easily.  The insertion site and the bone itself will be sore for a week or two, but it should be manageable."  

"Also, I’ve put in the call to the orthopedic doctor to come take a look at his leg and shoulder.  He should be stopping by later on today.  I’ll be back by this evening to check on him.  If he continues this rate of progress, I'll probably start easing him off of the sedatives starting tomorrow afternoon...though it will probably still be a while after that before he actually regains consciousness.” 

After a few words with the nurse, the doctor left.

 

* * *

 

11:29am

 

Shortly before lunch, Jaehee and Jumin stopped by to visit.  Although the rules generally only allow two guests at a time, Jumin contacted the hospital administrator, who happened to be a friend of his from college, and arranged for the rules to be …altered…a bit in this case. 

Jaehee carried a large vase of colorful flowers, and she grasped a large collection of balloons floating from a bunch of ribbons. 

“These balloons are from some of Yoosung’s friends at Sky University, and the flowers are from me,” she said as she anchored the balloons, then set the flowers on the counter across the room, next to the considerably larger and more elegant arrangement from Jumin that had been delivered an hour earlier.

“I only got a glimpse of him yesterday, but I’d say he looks significantly better this morning” Jumin observed.  Jaehee nodded in agreement.

 They visited for a few minutes, but left when a technician came in with a portable x-ray machine.  Eleanora stood in the doorway as the technician took pictures of Yoosung’s leg and shoulder.  These were for the orthopedic doctor who would be coming by in the afternoon.

At noon, a cart full of meal trays made its rounds in the ward.  A hospital worker came into the room with a tray full of food.

“Oh…He can’t eat...” Eleanora started to explain.

“No, my dear, this is for you!  You get a complimentary tray for each meal.”  The worker, an older lady with silver hair, cheerfully explained.  She pulled a wheeled table over to Eleanora’s chair, and set the tray on it.  “Enjoy!”  She smiled, before leaving.

Eleanora tried to remember the last time she ate.  Was it at the Christmas Eve party?  No…it was later that night.  The night she found the communications tracer that led her to Yoosung.  Seven had brought her fried chicken. 

_Seven…_

She thought back to last night in the waiting room, when Seven had gotten so upset that he had to leave.  She wondered where he was, and hoped he was okay.  She couldn't begin to imagine how he must be feeling, but she'd give anything for him to feel better and be like his old self again.  She missed him.

 

Lifting the lid on the plate, Eleanora was greeted with the luscious aroma of roast beef and vegetables. 

Despite the common stereotypes about hospital food, the lunch tray looked absolutely lovely, and she felt like she had an appetite for the first time in a very long time.  She ate the full meal, feeding her body and mind, feeling her fortitude increase with each bite.

“Ahh...That’s what I like to see.  A pretty girl with a healthy appetite.”  A familiar voice drifted from the doorway. 

Eleanora, who had just shoved a huge bite of meat into her mouth, turned in time to see Zen enter the room, a dazzling smile brightening his lovely face.

Eyes wide, and flushing in embarrassment, Eleanora frantically gestured to the plate and to her mouth, trying to explain herself. 

Zen laughed. "It's okay, Eleanora, no need to freak out.  Go ahead and finish your food.  Seeing you eat is the best thing I've seen all day!"

Once she had finished her bite, she giggled sheepishly.  "Sorry, Zen.  That wasn't very lady-like, but gosh, I was so hungry.  But I'm glad to see you!"

"Don't apologize for that!  I'm just glad that you are eating.  We've all been worried for you."  Zen responded.

“So.  How in the world did you manage to get in here without drawing the attention of the paparazzi?”  Eleanora joked.

“I went ... _incognito_.” He brandished a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and held them over his face.  “See, you can’t even tell it’s me.  I look like any other ordinary florist making a get-well delivery at this hospital.”  

Eleanora giggled.

Zen pouted dramatically, “Of course, I hated every minute.  It’s a  _crime_  to hide this beautiful face away from the world, don’t you agree?” 

With an exaggerated harshness in her expression, Eleanora concurred, “Oh, absolutely.  You should be arrested and jailed immediately for obstruction of gorgeousness."  She chuckled inwardly as she imagined how Yoosung would be rolling his eyes if he were awake and could hear this conversation. 

Zen set the vase of flowers next to the ones that had arrived earlier.  The room was beginning to smell like a springtime garden.  

"Hmmph.  Of course, Mr. Trust Fund Kid just _had_ to get the most obscenely enormous bouquet in the history of the world," Zen observed of the first flower delivery of the day.  

Eleanora shrugged, not sure how to respond.  “It’s the thought that counts, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess so…” Zen said as he scooted Jumin’s gift down (all the way down…into the corner behind the balloons) to make room for his own floral offering. 

“So, how’s our patient doing today?”  Zen approached the bed, standing next to Eleanora as he regarded Yoosung with concern.

“He’s resting.  He’s all done with the blood transfusions.  He received 8 units of blood in total.  That’s why his color is so much better.  He’s still pale, but he looked much, much worse last night...”  She shuddered at the memory.

“Any word yet about when are they going to let him wake up?”

“The doctor thinks maybe tomorrow they will start slowly bringing him out of the coma.  It's a lengthy process, and they want to do it slowly to avoid over-stressing his system.  Once he’s out of the coma, it may still be a while before he actually wakes up.  We’re not going to rush him.”  Eleanora stroked her fingers delicately over Yoosung’s, then intertwined them together.

“That makes sense.  After all he’s been through, he needs as much rest as possible.”  Zen said thoughtfully.

Eleanora nodded in agreement.

“And…what about you?  How are you doing?”  Zen stood, leaning against the wall next to Eleanora’s chair.  He gazed at her like a worried big brother.

“Oh… _me?”_ Eleanora was a bit caught off-guard from the question.  She hadn’t actually thought much about how she, herself, was doing in well over 24 hours.  “I guess I’m…doing a lot better.  I’m feeling more relaxed, and I’ve got an appetite for the first time in ages.  Being here with him is my best medicine.”

Zen chuckled, his expression becoming oddly wistful.  “I guess I can understand that," he said, somewhat longingly.  

The intense gaze of his garnet eyes softened.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

"Yes, Zen?"

 _"You’re an amazing woman._   You know that?”  She glanced up at him, surprised by the unexpected praise—words she wasn't sure she really deserved.  Her expression was quizzical, and a hint of blush glowed on her cheeks.

Sensing her bewilderment, Zen explained. “Think about what you did for him, Eleanora.  _You_ found him when no one else could--not the government, not the police, not the most respected investigators and search teams in the world.   _You_ single handedly found him, rescued him, killed the asshole who did all of this to him, and then got him to safety.   _You saved his life_.  All by yourself.  That’s…simply incredible.  How were you able to do all of that?”

“I-I don't know.  I just...I couldn't stand the thought of living my life without him.  _I love him.”_ Eleanora said softly as she looked over at Yoosung, and gently squeezed his hand.

“Wow.  I guess that says it all—the power of love.”  Zen smiled, but his expression looked distant, reverent, and almost prayerful.

Despite his smile, a flash of sadness flickered across his face.  

“I hope I can be loved like that someday," he sighed quietly he stared at his feet.  His gaze returned to Eleanora.  "He's a very lucky guy to have you.”

“I think I'm the fortunate one.”  She was speaking to Zen, but her eyes were on Yoosung. 

After a few more minutes of small talk, and a quick hug, Zen excused himself to head to a rehearsal at a theater down the street, promising to stop by again afterward.

 

* * *

 

5:15pm

 

Dr. Joseph held Yoosung’s right eyelid open, shining a penlight into his eye, watching for a change in the dilation of his pupil. He then repeated the test on the other eye, with the same result.

“He’s still out.  I think we’re going to let him rest until tomorrow afternoon.  He’s making a lot of progress, but it will only help to give him a little more time to rest.  We’ve already stepped down some of the oxygen in his ventilator mix, and he’s maintaining good oxygen levels on his own—which means his lungs are picking up the slack.  Exactly what we want to see.”

The orthopedic specialist, a young, dark haired man with deep blue eyes by the name of Dr. Chase, stood at the other side of the bed.  Having already reviewed the x-rays, he had removed the temporary stabilizers from Yoosung’s leg and was examining it closely, his forehead furrowed in concentration.

“This leg has been broken for at least a month.  Maybe longer.  It looks like some crude treatment was done here, but the bones were never properly set, so now they’ve began to fuse together incorrectly.  A significant amount of reconstruction of both the tibia and fibula is going to be needed—once he's stable enough for surgery, at least another day or two.” he concluded as he replaced the stabilizer brace on the leg.

Moving to the other side of the bed, he performed a quick manual exam of Yoosung’s shoulder.  “As for the shoulder, I don’t see the need to operate there.  Pretty much everything in the joint is deranged and inflamed, but everything’s intact.  Once it’s popped back into joint, it should heal up just fine.  With him under sedation, we could go ahead and relocate it now if you'd like to assist, Dr. Joseph.” 

Dr. Joseph nodded, "Of course, Dr. Chase." 

Turning to Eleanora, he explained, “Relocating a shoulder is a fairly straightforward procedure, as long as all of the bones and tendons are sound.  However, it can be unsettling to watch, since we have to manually pull the arm out far enough to align the ball and socket of the joint.  There's actually very little difference in the way we do it today, and the way it was done in medieval times.  You don’t have to, but you might want to step out while we do it—it only takes a minute.”

“Thanks for the warning, but I’d like to stay.” Eleanora asserted.

Eleanora stood at the side of the bed, maintaining a firm hold on Yoosung's left hand, turning her head away as the doctors pulled and maneuvered Yoosung’s right arm and manipulated it back into place.  She heard a series of pops as the joint was re-engaged correctly.  She shuddered, thinking how much that surely would have hurt if he had been awake.

“Are you sure he didn’t feel any of that?” Eleanora asked anxiously.

“Don’t worry, ma’am.  He didn't feel anything; he’s still fully under sedation.”  Dr. Chase reassured her.

Dr. Joseph added, “In fact, it will feel a lot better when he does wake up.  Reseating a dislocated joint almost always offers instant relief.” 

After a little more discussion, Dr. Joseph and Dr. Chase left the room to further discuss their plans for treatment and plans for surgery.

 

* * *

 

9:59pm

 

The room was quiet and dark.  The nurse had just left from her twice-hourly check of Yoosung’s vital signs and IV sites.  He was finally hydrated to a normal level, so another of his IV lines had been removed, leaving just the ones in each of his arms.  Through one, he was receiving his pain medicine and the sedatives that kept him in the induced coma, some of which couldn’t be mixed with other medications.  The other one just had a slow drip of fluids to keep him from getting dehydrated again, and was available for any other medications that couldn’t be added to the other one.

Eleanora was curled up in the chair, pulled up next to the bed.  The safety rail on the upper part of that side of the bed was lowered, allowing her to lay her head on the edge of the bed, her face inches away from him.  Leaning over, she kissed his forehead, wishing fervently that he could feel her kisses and understand how deeply she loved him. 

“I hope you’re not hurting, my love.”  She planted more kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, and the side of his mouth—the ventilator tube was still in place. 

“I’m so glad you came into my life, Yoosung.  Do you know that?  I don’t know what I did to deserve such a priceless gift as your love.”  She carefully lifted his hand to her lips, kissing the tips of each long, slender finger. 

Eleanora gazed intently at his face, studying each and every feature, as if to memorize him.  She traced her fingers lightly over his forehead, down the side of his face, and along his jawline.  Even under all of the wires and tubes, he was so beautiful.  "Do you know how precious you are to me?" she whispered.  "I never knew that it was possible to love someone as much as I love you.  All I can think about is helping you get through this, so we can spend the rest of our lives together.  That's all I want, baby.  I just want to be with you forever.  I want to give you babies--you'll be such a wonderful dad--and I want to help you reach all of your dreams and encourage you and be there with you through the good stuff and the bad stuff.  I love you so much.  You are my heart, my soul, my treasure, my hero.  You're my everything."  

As she poured out her heart, she was so caught up in the moment that she didn't realize that tears were rolling down her cheeks and onto Yoosung's pillow.  Leaning in to give him one more kiss on the forehead, Eleanora retreated to grab a tissue to dry her face.  Settling back into her chair, she once again took his hand into hers, lightly caressing the back of his fingers with her thumb.

“Just keep on sleeping, baby.  Get all of the rest you need, so you can make your way back to me.  I’ll stay right here and keep you safe.  It’s my turn to protect you."

She fell asleep staring across the room to the city lights outside, her hand still grasping his.

 

* * *

 

December 27th

2:23pm

 

Yoosung's coloring was almost back to normal today.

The mixture of drugs that was keeping Yoosung in a coma had been slowly decreased throughout the day, to the point where he was only on pain controlling medicine.  The next step, according to Dr. Joseph, was to gradually step down the settings on the ventilator.  Ideally, as the ventilator is slowly turned down, Yoosung’s own respiratory system should step up and take over, until it is functioning entirely on its own.  Then, the tube can be removed.

“It looks like he’s holding his own” the doctor observed.  To the nurse, he instructed, “Let’s go ahead and remove this tube and see how he tolerates that over the next few hours.  Be sure to keep a close watch on his oxygen saturation levels and intervene if he drops below 94.  I’ll make my next rounds this evening, and we’ll see how he’s doing then.  Call me if there’s any problems or if you need to intubate again.”  He then left.

“Alright, let’s get rid of this tube…” The nurse said obligingly, as she disconnected the tube from the machine and moved the machine out of the way.  Then, she removed the tube from where it connected to the mouthpiece.  Finally, she pulled the mouthpiece out, which brought with it a length of tubing that was much longer than Eleanora had expected it to be.   _How far down did that thing go?_   She cringed as she thought about it.  The removal of the long tube left a trail of spittle on his chin.  Using a washcloth, the nurse cleaned his mouth and chin.

“The feeding tube will need to stay in place until he can eat on his own,” the nurse explained, checking to make sure it was in its proper place.  “Baby steps, right?” She smiled at Eleanora.

Eleanora nodded in agreement, though her gaze was fixed on her sweetheart's face.  It was so good to see him without that huge tube in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

7:08pm

 

Darkness had settled in over the city.  A thick layer of clouds amplified the city lights, casting a soft, ethereal glow into the darkened hospital room. 

Curled up in the reclining chair next to the bed, with a small reading lamp providing the only other lighting in the room, Eleanora was reading aloud to Yoosung from a gaming magazine Jaehee had brought in a few hours earlier.  One hand was holding the magazine, which was folded over to the page from which she was reading.  The other hand was wrapped around Yoosung’s.

Earlier in the afternoon, Jaehee had stopped by briefly on her way back to work from her (late) lunch break.  At the time, Jaehee had suggested to Eleanora that she read to him about something he liked.  Of course, Eleanora immediately thought of the subject matter that had kept him conscious and talking to her as they raced to the hospital on Christmas night.

“You know how much he loves gaming.  What about something on that topic?” Eleanora had suggested.  “I don’t supposed you know of any books about LOLOL?” she asked with a playful smirk. 

She was joking, of course, but she wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Jaehee did, in fact, have knowledge of such a thing.  Jaehee never ceased to amaze with her seemingly bottomless supply of knowledge of just about every subject imaginable.

“Um…no.  But, I know there are several magazine publications about gaming in general.  Maybe I can find one that features LOLOL.  I’ll go to the bookstore and see what I can find.”

An hour later, she returned with a small stack of magazines, setting them down on the small table next to the bed.  “These are all about gaming, and each of them has at least one article about LOLOL.  Try reading these to him.  If he can hear you, it might encourage him to wake up.”

Eleanora looked at the stack, clearly impressed.  _Is there anything this smart, capable woman can’t do?_  Eleanora wondered. 

“Thank you so much, Jaehee,” Eleanora said, as she gave her best friend a big hug.  “I know he’ll enjoy these.”

Now that Yoosung had been removed from the drugs that kept him in a coma, they were only waiting for him to find his way back to consciousness.  Dr. Joseph warned that it could take as much as a couple of days for him to wake up, but that it was possible that he might already be able to be aware of his surroundings, so it was vitally important for Eleanora to talk to him and interact with him, to encourage him to wake up, and to give him comfort...since it can be a difficult and unsettling, even frightening, process to wake up from a coma.

As she read to him, she held his hand, occasionally tracing the contours of his knuckles with her thumb.  She would stop periodically and ask him a question, to see if he would respond, but he never did.  She was happy to just hear the sound of his calm, peaceful breathing—on his own, not with the help of a noisy machine.

“Yoosung, did you know about the new expansion that’s being planned for LOLOL next summer?  According to this article in _RPG Weekly_ , they’re going to introduce new races and classes, and a whole new talent system.  It actually looks like a lot of fun...I think I’d like to..." her words trailed off as she felt a subtle twitch from the hand resting in hers.

She froze in place, focusing all of her senses into the hand she had wrapped around his.  “D-did you just move your hand?  Do it again, sweetie.  If you can hear me, try squeezing my hand.” Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest as she encouraged him.  "Come on, baby, I know you can do it.”

Soft as the flutter of a baby sparrow’s wings, she felt his fingers tighten around hers ever so slightly.  Her breath caught in her throat.

“Oh…Yoosung... Are you coming back to me?”

“Mhmmm…” The sound—a faint, hoarse moan—was barely audible.  His chest rose a bit as his breathing deepened slightly.

The magazine forgotten, Eleanora pulled her legs under her so that she was sitting on her knees in the chair, allowing her to lean in close to Yoosung.  Her face was just inches from his as she gently stroked his hair.

“What is it, baby?  Tell me what you need. Anything at all…”  She asked him as she pressed the nurse call button.

 _“Y…you…”_  He squeezed her hand again, his grip still very weak, but definitely noticeable.

 _“mnnn…n-need…you…Elea…nora…”_   His sweet words were so faint, but they melted her heart.  Tears stung at her eyes.

“I’m here.  I’m right here, sweetheart…” she gently stroked his cheek before kissing his forehead. 

A pleasant voice crackled over the intercom. _“Can I help you?”_  

“He’s waking up,” Eleanora could barely force the words out. 

The voice came from over the intercom again.  _“I’ll be right there.”_


	24. A New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoosung wakes up from the coma...a major milestone...but there is still a long way to go in his road to recovery.

**Chapter 24: A New Day**

December 27th

* * *

7:15pm

 

Min-Jung, the nurse Eleanora remembered from their first night at the hospital soon appeared at the door, turned on the lights, and walked briskly to Yoosung’s bedside.  She looked him over closely.  As he was becoming more and more aware, he was moaning softly with each breath, eyes still closed, but a pained look was etched onto his face.  He held Eleanora's hand tightly, as if for dear life.

“Where do you hurt, sweetie?”  Eleanora asked him nervously, as she watched the nurse recorded his vital signs.

“Mmmhmm… head…hurts.  And...leg.  Everything…hurts...so...much...”  

He squeezed Eleanora’s hand again as he cried out softly.  Although his eyes were closed, tears spilled freely onto his pillow.  

Alarmed, Eleanora turned to address the nurse.

“Isn't there anything you can give him to help with the pain?” Eleanora implored. 

“I’ll be contacting Dr. Joseph shortly with this development, and I’ll definitely ask him.  It’s hard to gauge the correct amounts of pain medicine in a patient who has limited consciousness.  We have to be conservative  because overdoing it could compromise his breathing.  Now that he is awake and can tell us how he is feeling, we’ll be able to stay on top of it much better.  I just need to ask a few questions and do some simple tests for my report to the doctor—the information will help him decide the best way to proceed.  It will only take a minute; I’ll be really fast.”

Eleanora nodded, and stepped back from Yoosung's bed.  Hesitantly, she let go of his hand, but not before planting a quick kiss on his fingertips.

“Mr. Kim, Can you open your eyes?”

After a moment of hesitation, he mumbled, "Can't.  Too heavy.  Hurts too much."  He was slightly slurring his words, as if the effort to say them was almost more than he could handle.

“It’s okay, dear," the nurse said, "Can you lift your arms?”

He tried, but wasn’t able to lift his hands from the surface of the bed by more than an inch. “Too heavy,” he said again. “I…I feel like…I’m m-made...out of lead.”

“That’s normal, dear, don’t worry.  How about wiggling your fingers.  Can you do that?”  Fingers on both hands fluttered, but only a little.

“Good.  Now, how about your toes?” the nurse lifted the sheet just enough to reveal Yoosung’s bruised, calloused feet.  He managed to move both big toes slightly, though it clearly hurt to move the toe on his broken leg.

“That’s great…the fact that you can move your extremities even a little bit means that your nervous system is rebooting nicely after being sedated for a while.  Over time, you’ll gain strength and be able to do more.  Baby steps.”

She then performed a number of tests of reflexes, sensory perception (“Can you feel this?” as she touched his foot…), and awareness (“Can you tell me your full name?  What year it is?”…).  He passed these tests with flying colors, though he still struggled to form his words.

After recording her observations for her report to the doctor on her clipboard, she adjusted the bed so that Yoosung was sitting up at a 45-degree angle.  Then, once again dimming the lights, the nurse left, promising to return shortly with the doctor and some pain killers.

The room was once again silent and dim.  The city lights shone like diamonds against the cold, dark velvet of the winter night sky.  Eleanora normally appreciated the spectacular view, but in this moment, the only thing that existed in her world was her Yoosung…her angel, who sacrificed so much for her.  She held his hand and gazed at his beautiful face, still tensed into a painful grimace.  His eyes were still closed tightly.  Gently, she stroked his face, carefully wiping away his tears with her fingertips.

“My darling…can you open your eyes now that the lights are turned down?  I’d give anything to see your beautiful eyes looking at me.”  Her heart and mind were spinning out of control, and she wasn’t sure she could string words together.  She had leaned in over the bed from her perch on the chair, resting with her arm on the side of the bed, and her face was only inches from his.  He could feel her warmth, and it gave him strength, just as it had done for the last seven months.

“For you… _anything_.  I want to...see you...so bad...”  Yoosung took a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered open just a tiny bit.  The task was much easier for him with the room darkened.  His breath caught as his eyes focused for the first time since his near-death, which already seemed like another lifetime ago.  Eleanora’s chestnut hair fell to her shoulders in soft waves, with her thick bangs laying lightly against her forehead.  Her eyes of warm honey-amber glistened as they reflected the lights of the city.  She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen…an angel, right in front of him.

“There you are… _hi, baby!”_   Eleanora smiled, inwardly cringing at how cheesy she must have just sounded.

 _“Hey.”_   A tiny smile crept across his lips, which had regained their warm pink color.  “My God.  You're _so_ beautiful.  Like an angel…My own angel…Eleanora.”

“Yes, _your_ Eleanora.  Yours, forever.”  Her voice caught on the lump that had suddenly rose in her throat.

“Eleanora...”

“Yes, my love?”

“Would you…uh…I mean...can I please…k-ki...I want to...k…”  He squirmed nervously, causing himself to wince.  A hint of blush showed up on his pale cheeks as he struggled with his words.

Eleanora knew exactly what he was trying to ask her. 

“ _Gladly_.”  And, without another word, she quickly swept in and met his lips with hers.  Softly and delicately, the two of them melted together into their very first kiss.  His lips were so warm, soft, and gentle.  One of Eleanora’s hands was laced through his hair, the other cupped his face.  With some effort, Yoosung lifted his hand to Eleanora’s face, caressing her cheek with trembling fingertips.  She inhaled sharply as his fingers traced down her lower jaw.

“I love you.” He breathlessly whispered into her mouth.  “I’ve dreamed...about this...for so long…”

“I love you, too, baby.  So very much.  I never stopped looking for you.  I would have spent the rest of my days trying to find you.”

Eleanora drew back from their kiss, only to lean in again, planting more kisses on his forehead, his nose, his temples, his cheeks.  Yoosung gazed at her weakly, but with a passion that set the facets of amethyst ablaze in his eyes.  He drew a ragged breath and closed his eyes.

 _“So tired…”_   He shifted slightly, wincing in pain as he realized that he may have already overexerted himself.

“I know, baby.  Close your eyes and sleep some more.  You need to rest so you can get better.  Don’t worry about anything.  I’ll stay right here by your side.  I’m not going anywhere.”

The nurse came back a short time later with some powerful pain medicine, which she injected into Yoosung’s IV line.  Soon, the tension in his face eased, and he relaxed into a deep sleep, his hand wrapped tightly up in Eleanora’s.

 

* * *

 

11:07pm

 

Eleanora sat in the chair, reading a book.  The room was dark, save for twinkling city lights spilling a faint glow through the window, and the small LED light clipped to the cover of her book, illuminating the pages.  Yoosung was sleeping peacefully, and had been for the past several hours. 

As she turned the page, she sighed contentedly.  She hadn’t felt so relaxed in a very long time.  Feeling the soft warmth of Yoosung's hand in hers, knowing that he was safe and that he was going to be okay, gave her a feeling of peace and calm that she had never experienced before.

Her attention was shifting periodically from the book in her hands to her precious, sleeping angel.  Occasionally lifting her gaze from the pages to his sweet face, she reverently admired every feature—the slope of his nose, his impossibly long, dark eyelashes laying softly on the tops of his cheeks.  His perfect, pink lips.  The elegant angle of his jawline, and the narrow point of his chin. 

_He was so beautiful, in every way possible._

He may have been the “baby” of the RFA, and he may have had the reputation of being naïve, whiny, and over-emotional. 

But Eleanora knew better.  She knew that, despite his vulnerability, he was _strong_ …the strongest person she had ever known.  She knew his heart loved harder and more purely than she ever thought humanly possible.  What a miracle to have found someone like him, and to have earned that kind of love. 

Shifting her awareness back to the present, Eleanora realized that tears had fallen down her cheeks, spilling onto the pages of her book.  Quickly, she grabbed a tissue and carefully dabbed at the small, round wet spots forming on the paper.

Suddenly, a shudder caused the bed to shake slightly next to her.  Eleanora quickly closed the book with the tissue inside it, and turned her attention to check on Yoosung. 

“Mmmhhh,” he moaned softly.  Suddenly, his muscles tensed.

Giving his hand a slight squeeze, Eleanora whispered, "What's wrong, sweetie?"

“Mmmmh…No…please.  _Nnnggh_ …  Eleanora!  NO!   _Don’t hurt her!  Leave her alone!  Take me instead!”_   His voice grew louder and more urgent with each word.  He struggled to sit up, but cried out in pain as his abdominal wound made its presence known.  He collapsed back to the bed with a choked sob, his eyes still closed.

Letting the book fall heedlessly to the floor, Eleanora quickly moved to the edge of the bed, and carefully wrapped her arms around Yoosung, who was trembling with terror and mumbling incoherently as he quietly sobbed.  His eyes were still clenched shut, but tears streamed down his face.  

She held him gently, her heart aching as she desperately wanted to chase away the invisible enemy that was attacking his mind.  

“Shhhhh…it’s okay, baby.  It’s just a dream.  I’m right here.  Everything is okay…”As she cooed soothingly to him, he seemed to calm down; his breathing became slower and regular, and his trembling slowly subsided. 

Dropping the side rail of the hospital bed, Eleanora carefully climbed into the bed and laid right next to Yoosung, holding him gently and securely in her arms.  She softly stroked his hair as she whispered words of love and reassurance into his ear. 

She held him close and continued to gently stroke his head, but she wanted to do more to help.

Suddenly, a childhood memory flooded her mind, like a sweet, springtime breeze.  She recalled the time when, at about 7 years old, she had woken up from a nightmare.  Soaked in sweat and trembling, she called out for her mother.  Almost immediately, her mother swept into the room in her long, flowing nightgown...like an angel.  She sat on Eleanora's bed, listening intently as the weeping child described the horrors that had evicted her from a deep sleep.  Once she had reassured Eleanora that all was well, her mother then proceeded to sing Eleanora's favorite lullaby, a song brought from her own mother's homeland of Ireland.

Her mother had gone to heaven years ago, but the beautiful song was one of the many treasured gifts imparted to Eleanora so many times during her childhood.  

Desperately hoping to soothe whatever was troubling her love, Eleanora began to sing with a voice soft and clear: 

 

> "Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby  
>  Back to the years of loo-lee lai-lay  
>  And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow  
>  Bless you with love for the road that you go  
>    
>  May you sail far to the fair fields of fortune  
>  With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet  
>  And may you need never to banish misfortune  
>  May you find kindness in all that you meet  
>    
>  May there always be angels to watch over you  
>  To guide you each step of the way  
>  To guard you and keep you safe from all harm  
>  Loo-lee, loo-lee, lai-lay  
>    
>  May you bring love and may you bring happiness  
>  Be loved in return to the end of your days  
>  Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you  
>  I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-lee, lai-lay  
>    
>  May there always be angels to watch over you  
>  To guide you each step of the way  
>  To guard you and keep you safe from all harm  
>  Loo-lee, loo-lee, lai-lay
> 
> Loo-lee, loo-lee, lai-lay..."  
>    
>  (NOTE:  The song referenced here is called "Sleepsong" by Secret Garden/Fionnuala Gill, and can be heard at:  <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yQpU_73Dv0> 
> 
> No copyright infringement is intended, and all credit goes to those who own the music.)
> 
>  

As Eleanora quietly sang the lullaby, she could feel the tension in Yoosung's body slowly melt away.  For a while longer, she continued to hold him, until she was sure that he had safely returned to a peaceful sleep.  


	25. A New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's New Year's Eve, and Eleanora works with Jaehee and the rest of the RFA bunch to plan a special New Year celebration for Yoosung.

**Chapter 25: A New Year**

December 31st

10:45am

* * *

 

It was New Year’s Eve. The last day of a year that had proven to be quite the wild roller coaster ride.

Yoosung was doing remarkably well.  Two days ago, he had surgery to repair the bones in his lower left leg that had been broken and left to heal incorrectly.  He was now the proud owner of a repaired tibia and fibula—complete with several screws and plates—and a large cast that went from his knee down to his foot.  Only his toes peeked out from the end.  He would not see the rest of his foot or leg for at least six weeks.  

Eleanora had been the first to sign the cumbersome hunk of plaster on Yoosung's leg.  She decorated it with hand-drawn stars in three different colors of permanent marker.

“You _are_ my shooting star, after all,” she had told him as she painstakingly worked on her masterpiece.  

At Eleanora's insistence, the cast soon bore the names and doodles of each member of the RFA.  Eleanora even managed to talk Jumin into writing his name.  Once he finished, he drew a paw-print representing his beloved cat, Elizabeth the Third. 

Jaehee drew some yellow butterflies around her name. 

“This brings back memories.  I haven’t signed a friend’s cast since I was in high school,” she said as she finished filling in a tiny yellow wing.  “I feel like I should be too old for this activity…”

Zen had signed with his best “autograph” handwriting, under which he wrote “May my name on this cast grant you the ability to heal as quickly as I do!” He drew a rudimentary giant winking smiley next to the name. 

“Wow, Zen.  Your drawing stinks.  You should stick to being the canvas, not the painter.” Seven snickered.

“Hey, my forte as an _artiste_ is in performing, not creating.” Zen retorted with a toss of his long, silver hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, anyway.  I think my emoji is cute.  It’s original, like me.”

"I agree," Jaehee chimed in.

The whole group was happy to see Seven, who showed up for a visit the day after Yoosung’s surgery, after being missing-in-action since the night of the rescue.  Not to be outdone, he drew his nickname in large red and yellow block letters across the top of Yoosung’s foot. 

" _Et voilà !_ Now,  _that's_ art!  So good, it belongs in a museum!  Of course, it would have turned out even better if  _someone_  hadn’t been wiggling his toes so much.” 

“Hey, I couldn't help it...it tickled!” Yoosung protested, barely concealing a giggle. 

Yoosung was recovering quickly.  His feeding tube was gone, and he was able to eat small meals.  After just a few days, he was already looking a little more filled out and healthy.  He was down to only one IV line, which provided him with maintenance fluids and pain medication when he needed it.  He had been cleared of any permanent organ damage after a series of scans and tests that had concluded yesterday.  He had also graduated out of the intensive care unit, which meant moving to a much nicer room, with a much nicer view, on the 15th floor.  He was now allowed to have as many visitors as he wanted  _“within reason,”_  the charge nurse in the standard care unit warned.

Dr. Joseph was so pleased with Yoosung's progress, that there was talk that he would be able to leave the hospital in the next week or two, which was far less time than had previously been expected.  Of course, he would be moving to a rehabilitation facility for at least a few weeks, before he would be ready to go home. He still had a lot of work ahead of him before he would have the strength and abilities he had before.  He still needed a lot of medication to keep his pain under control, but he was getting stronger and was able to stay awake and talk to Eleanora and visitors for longer periods of time.

Psychologically, Yoosung seemed to be surprisingly  _okay_ …at least, so far.  He did have nightmares, but he was remembering less and less about his seven-month ordeal as time passed.  The three mental health professionals who have talked to him concluded that he may be able to forget almost everything about what happened at that abandoned farm in the mountains.  Some people's brains are remarkably resilient and are able to cope with major stress events by simply purging them from memory.  Of course, it had only been a week, and it was entirely possible that any potential fallout could take time to manifest. 

Only time would tell. 

For the time being, Yoosung was blissfully forgetful, and enjoying the time with Eleanora and his friends.  And Eleanora was thankful for that.  Her angel deserves nothing less than to be happy and free from those horrible memories.

Even as everyone in the RFA was sharing in their joy at Yoosung’s return and recovery, a cloud of worry still lingered.  Nobody knew exactly what happened to Seven during the time he was away…and even though he was back and seemingly okay, there was something _different_ about him—Eleanora couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but she could see it in his deep, golden eyes.  She wanted to reach out to him, but she thought that the less said, the better. 

Maybe someday he’ll open up, but for the time being, Eleanora thought it best, under the circumstances, to leave well enough alone. 

Perhaps, he just needed more time to come to terms with everything.

Finally, everyone seemed to be, for the most part, happy and well—or at least, in Yoosung’s case, heading in the direction of being well.    

  

* * *

 

11:09pm 

 

A little less than an hour before midnight, as Eleanora and Yoosung were playing a game of cards, her phone made a familiar, telltale buzz from her pocket—a chat room had opened up.  She looked briefly (and discretely) at the screen.  

 _Everything is ready,_ read the message from Jaehee.  Eleanora put her phone away, and abruptly stood up.

“What’cha doing?”  Yoosung looked at her quizzically.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”  She smiled playfully, neatly stacking the cards so that they could come back to their game later.

“Huh? What is it?  Hey, where are you going?”

“You’ll see, sweetie…” she said with a giggle.  Eleanora briefly disappeared into the hallway, returning momentarily with a wheelchair.  Min-Jung followed close behind, a huge smile illuminating her face.

“Oooh….Are we actually  _going somewhere?”_  Yoosung’s eyes widened with excitement. 

“You'll just have to wait and see!”  Eleanora teased.

With Min-Jung's help, and a small pillow in his lap to support the healing wound on his abdomen, they soon had him sitting comfortably and securely in the wheelchair, cast propped up on a raised leg rest, and bundled up against the cold with a couple of extra blankets.

“I’d like to push him, if that’s okay,” Eleanora said to the nurse, who nodded with a smile.

“That’s fine, dear.  I know you’ll take good care of him.  Just make sure he doesn’t get too cold, and don’t let him stand up or bear any weight.  If he starts hurting or feeling unwell, bring him back right away, okay?”  Eleanora nodded in agreement.

To Yoosung, Min-Jung smiled brightly, “Have a good time, Mr. Kim!”

“Thanks!” Yoosung was clearly excited.  Eleanora, standing behind him ready to push the chair, bent down and kissed him lightly on the top of his head.

“Ready?” she asked him.

“Uh-huh!”  He responded eagerly.

They slowly made their way out of the room, past the well-wishing, smiling faces at the nurse’s station, and into the elevator. 

“All the way to the top…” Eleanora said as she pushed the button for the top floor.

Once the elevator arrived, they entered a darkened hallway.  There was a lounge area, with windows on three sides.  The view was incredible—they were far from being in the highest building in the city, but the elevation was more than enough to provide a commanding view of the city skyline.  Stepping through a sliding glass door, they entered a small rooftop courtyard, which was nicely appointed with tables, chairs, outdoor space heaters.  The area was decorated with strings of white lights, and the tables were set with beautiful candle centerpieces in glass hurricane shades. The twinkling lights of the city skyline cut a dramatic glow against the diamond-and-velvet sky. 

Eleanora’s breath was taken away by the splendor around her.  Although she had been in on this from the start, it was Jaehee who arranged everything and, as always, she didn't fail to impress and amaze.

“Wow…” she heard Yoosung murmur as he took everything in.  This was the first time he had been outside since the day of his rescue, but he didn’t remember any of that now. 

He looked up at Eleanora.  "What's all of this?" he asked.

"It's a New Year's Eve party, and a Welcome Home party...and you are the guest of honor!" Eleanora said as she moved Yoosung to a spot at one of the tables that was near one of the heaters.  She pulled a chair up right next to him, so that they were sitting only inches apart.  Leaning in close, she planted a kiss on his cheek, causing an immediate blush to spread across his face.  

Yoosung could not wipe the smile from his face.

“Ta-da!  Surprise!” Seven exclaimed as he emerged from around the corner.  Shoving a plastic party whistle in his mouth, he blew on it so hard, it shot from his lips, landing several feet away.

 _“I meant to do that…”_ he said sheepishly, as he dove to pick it up.

Jumin sailed through the door, holding his phone to his ear.  Wrapping up what sounded like a business-related conversation, he pocketed his phone and took a seat near one of the tables.  

Eleanora looked at him quizzically.  "Jumin, surely you're not working at this time of night on New Year's Eve?"

"I normally wouldn't be, but the chairman insisted that this year, C&R International would be sponsoring the city fireworks display.  So, of course I was put in charge of coordinating everything.  I was just finalizing the last preparations with the crew down at the launch area on the river." Jumin replied.

Zen suddenly drifted through the glass doors.  "Hey, everyone, I'm here... _now the party can start!_ Where's the beer?"

"There is no beer.  Since Yoosung is unable to drink alcohol due to the medications he's taking, we're only serving non-alcoholic drinks tonight."  Jaehee chimed in, having arrived on scene carrying a silver tray of glassware, which she set on the main serving table.

Zen looked positively crestfallen.  _"N-no alcohol?_ You can't have a New Year's Eve without a little buzz.  We can't have even one bottle?"

"No.  You'll just have to go be a drunken ass somewhere else, on your own dime."  Jumin carefully measured the salt before throwing it at his favorite target.   

Jaehee and Eleanora executed a perfect simultaneous eye roll, something they had gotten down to a science after nearly a year of watching _"[The Odd Couple"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Odd_Couple_\(film\))_   trade jabs.

 _"Ooooh,_  someone call the burn unit, we have a man down!" Seven howled.

The narrow-eyed glare that Zen shot back at Jumin could have melted steel.  Taking a breath, he responded, "hey, you know what?  I'm not even going to dignify that jerk face with a response." sniffed Zen, as he grabbed a glass and filled it with non-alcoholic bubbly.

 

Caterers, hired by Jumin, brought out a cart of light snacks and drinks.  Two bottles of (non-alcoholic) champagne sat in a silver bucket of ice, next to a line of delicate, flute-shaped crystal glasses.

This was the first time that the group had been able to be together since Eleanora joined the RFA, and everyone had a wonderful time talking and laughing together. 

As midnight neared, everyone gathered together for an incomparable view of the city fireworks over the river.  Eleanora sat next to Yoosung, leaning in next to him so that they could hold each other close.  They shared conversation, as they fed each other delicious morsels and sipped drinks.

“I want this new year to be a new beginning,” Yoosung said softly. “The start of our life together.”

Eleanora answered him by nuzzling his ear with her nose and lips, eliciting from him a tiny gasp.

 _“I love you…”_ she whispered into his ear.  Yoosung closed his eyes, completely enraptured.

As the countdown to midnight ended with the magnificent flashes and booms of fireworks and the clinks of champagne glasses, Yoosung’s lips met Eleanora’s in a smoldering New Year’s kiss. 

His lips were so soft, so gentle, and yet sweetly persistent as he tentatively tasted her mouth.  Eleanora had never kissed like this, and she quickly let go of her inhibitions and allowed herself to explore—his delicious lips, his teeth, and his soft, warm tongue.  She breathed him in, reveling in every exquisite detail and sensation.  Despite both of them being inexperienced at kissing, there was no awkwardness in the way they sincerely sought each other in this moment.

 

“ _Awww…_ Get a room, you two…” Zen groaned playfully.

“Oh wow…are we jealous much, Zen?”  Seven laughed.  After all, Zen opened himself up for the shot, and Seven was not going to miss the opportunity provide some good-natured teasing to the gorgeous, yet forever-alone narcissistic actor. 

“Yeah, I am, actually.  How tragic is it that a face as gorgeous as mine should ring in the new year without someone special basking in its eternal glory?”  

Seven rolled his eyes and groaned loudly at Zen’s answer.

“There’s nothing wrong with being single, Zen,” Jaehee chimed in, “Remember, your career is better off without the distractions and scandal that a relationship would inevitably bring.”

The banter among friends was barely noticed by Yoosung and Eleanora. 

The two of them were tightly wrapped up in each other, and were only aware of their own little universe.  The heat of their connection was more than enough to stave off the chill in the night air. 

Finally, they retreated from each other—but only slightly—their foreheads almost touching as glowing amber eyes gazed into ones of pure amethyst. 

In that moment, no words were needed to communicate what they felt for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some songs that inspired this chapter:
> 
> Kissing You--Des'ree https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTLoTD1AnBE
> 
> Advice for the Young at Heart--Tears for Fears https://youtu.be/Z1NP9aHqRGU

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story! 
> 
> Comments are welcome--praise/encouragement gives me life and keeps me writing, so don't be shy--if you liked it, please TELL ME!!! :) If you didn't like it, don't be afraid to let me know...just please, be kind. I'm always open to all types of input. Ideas or suggestions for ways I can make the story better? Let me know! I've already made edits based upon my readers' suggestions, so I welcome and appreciate all recommendations. I love my readers!!!
> 
> Remember, this is part of a series--this isn't the end of Yoosung and Eleanora's story! I'd like to invite you to read "Sunrise", the next story in the series. 
> 
> If you've read my works previously, you might notice that a previous version that was published in the summer of 2017 is no longer posted. When I made big changes and additions to "231 Days" (in particular, adding the 10 chapters of "The Darker Chronicles"), I realized that, not only would I need to make significant revisions to "Sunrise", but that I also needed to add a lot more depth to the story in order to justify how much I want to do with this story arc. 
> 
> Also, like any other writer out there, I'm just as much of a "work in progress" as my works are! As I grow and learn, I look back on my works and find things that could be better. You writers out there know what I mean! ;)
> 
> So, just to sum up...this work ("231 Days") is pretty much done. I may make occasional small edits here and there, but I'm happy with the story as it is. 
> 
> The next installment, "Sunrise" is complete as of 1/3/2018. It deals with Yoosung's long-term recovery, and how he and Eleanora cope with that while developing their relationship.
> 
> The third installment, "Cherished" (working title), is currently being written. It will follow Yoosung and Eleanora as they build their life together, facing several obstacles along the way.
> 
> A fourth installment is also in development that will be Eleanora's backstory--which is briefly touched upon in "Sunrise". 
> 
> I'm actually working on all of these projects at once, which is kind of crazy, but it keeps things interesting. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and I hope to hear from you! 
> 
> Love and Hugs to all! :) 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr! @KrypticReaux


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